Demons
by ModernDayBard
Summary: JJ's been transferred to the Pentagon, and Strauss is putting pressure on Hotch to bring someone new in so the team isn't short-handed. With the team closing ranks, and with painful memories still lingering, can Amanda Johnson find her place in the BAU family? (Criminal Minds; Rated T; Complete)
1. Prologue

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here with my newest story. (I know: me posting two stories at once—who would've thought?) But I have too many long ideas to keep posting them one at time, so this one and 'Watch What Happens' will be updated simultaneously, with a chapter or two of each a week, and they'll both wrap up at the same time.  
** **Necessary Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds—the only things in this story that I can claim are my plot/case ideas and oc's.**

* * *

BAU Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner looked up from the file in his hand, taking in the young woman that sat on the other side of his desk. Amanda Johnson was only a few years out of the academy—still in her late twenties—but all of her previous superiors had recommended her to him when JJ's forced transfer had opened up a position on his team.

She was a little shorter than Emily and as pale as Reid, though her light-brown hair had traces of natural auburn highlights, and her bright green eyes could be a little unsettling, as if there was a wall behind them, but that could've been a defense attempt, since she was in the room with a renowned profiler. She was nervous, but ready to defend herself—she thought this was another interview, after all.

Finally, the older man broke the silence. "SSA Johnson, I'll be the first to admit that Agent Jereau had been on the team for a long time, and her loss has got some on the team closing ranks." He paused, watching as Amanda sat up a little taller—she wouldn't contradict or interrupt, but she wasn't afraid to stand up for herself, either. Good. "Nevertheless, I'll also be the first to say I think you will make a good addition to the team."

The brown-haired young woman seemed surprised for a moment, as her words sunk in. "You mean," she said at last, "That you actually want me on the team? In spite of my...past?"

"No," Hotch countered. "It's clear to me from the files that what happened to you made you into the exceptional agent you are. You are not here _in spite_ of your past, but _because_ of it."

With a shuddering breath that revealed the nerves the younger agent had been valiantly attempting to conceal. "Is it—" she began in a much quieter voice. "Is it alright if my... _background_ isn't made common knowledge yet? I know Agent Rossi already knows, but can it be up to me when I tell the others?"

Hotch nodded in understanding—Amanda wouldn't be the first on his team with a painful past.

"Of course it can."

* * *

 **So, yeah. Just a prologue for now, and the briefest of introductions to my main OC, Amanda Johnson. I'm sorry about being all mysterious here, she'll be acting much more normal in chapters to come...before her backstory is eventually revealed, of course.  
** **In terms of time line, this obviously takes place just after JJ was first transferred to the Pentagon and before Prentiss faked her death, so the team line-up is as follows: Hotch, Rossi, Garcia, Morgan, Prentiss, Reid, and now Amanda Johnson.  
** **I hope you enjoy this take on a more realistic universe than some of my last few stories!**


	2. Chapter 1

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here with the first** _ **official**_ **chapter of 'Demons' (last week's installment being the prologue). Now we get to see the rest of the team, and my OC, Amanda, behaving more as she normally does.  
** **To the guest review on the prologue: fear not. The romance tag is there for a reason, but Amanda is NOT going to be shipped with any of her coworkers.  
** **Because it must be said: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.**

* * *

As Rossi walked into the office Friday morning, he noticed the three younger agents on the team—Reid, Prentiss, and Morgan—clustered together near their desks. As he drew near, curious, he overheard their conversation.

"I heard Hotch's already found someone else for the team," Emily was saying, her tone tinged with the disgust the brunette young woman felt at the idea of anyone trying to follow in JJ's footsteps.

Morgan noticed the approaching agent first, and called over to him. "That true, Rossi?"

The older man nodded. "Yes, there was one candidate who stood out more than the others, and Hotch thinks she'll be a god fit. She starts Monday."

This only served to deepen the scowls on Derek's and Emily's faces, and cause Spence to look uncomfortable, but it was Morgan, again, who summed up the feelings of all three: "So, it's not bad enough they took JJ away, now Strauss is leaning on Hotch to try to _replace_ her?"

That was going too far.

"SSA Johnson isn't to blame for the situation. Hotch wanted to wait so it wouldn't feel like replacing JJ, but we're too short-handed at the moment. We need _someone_ ," Rossi pointed out, and none of them could meet his gaze. They were close to ceding the point, then. "It's not going to be easy on her, either: being the newcomer. Let's not make it any harder on her—alright?"

They eventually agreed—however reluctantly—and Rossi continued up to his office, confident it would all work out. Of course the team was on edge and uncomfortable with the idea of someone else joining so soon, but he also trusted them to soon see Amanda Johnson as one of their own as well.

* * *

Just before she left her apartment Monday morning, Amanda Johnson took one last look in the mirror. She wasn't normally a vain person, but she did want to leave a good impression on the team of profilers...

 _...My new team._

Satisfied that she was presentable, she scooped her keys off the entry way table and made her way out the door, bound for the offices of the BAU.

* * *

Amanda made her way through the glass doors into the bullpen area, trying not to appear fearful or hesitant, even if she had no idea where she was supposed to go now. She glanced around, hoping to see Agents Hotch or Rossi, since she'd recognize them from the interview process, but her green eyes fell instead on a colorfully dressed blonde woman approaching her.

"So, you're SSA Amanda Johnson." It wasn't a question.

"Yes, I am. And you are?" Amanda tried to keep her voice polite, but she just couldn't see this woman as an FBI agent.

The blonde woman held out a hand, but her friendly smile was a little forced. "Penelope Garcia, technical analyst. I'm sorry, I'm usually not this rude, but I'm missing JJ—we all are, really—and it's hard to picture somebody else being here. Oh, I didn't mean that to be insulting, I just wanted to explain why I might've seemed a bit rude, but now I seem rude again...oh, my. And now I'm rambling—"

Amanda had to smile. "It's alright, Penelope. I'm expecting the first week or so to be awkward, honestly. You all have to adjust to a new dynamic as much as I do." Her reassuring words seem to have done the trick, because now Garcia's smile was genuine.

"Good. I'm glad. Okay. Have you met the rest of the team yet?"

"No, I just got in," Amanda admitted, scanning the room.

Garcia nodded. "Right. And you're early, which none of the others are on Mondays, except Hotch, who's in his office. I'll show you where your desk is, and you can get settled in.

* * *

The next member of the 'BAU family' that Amanda encountered was Dr. Spencer Reid, who was much less talkative than Garcia had been. Upon noticing the new face in the bullpen area he stopped short, coffee in hand. When Amanda glanced up, he nodded at her, asking, "SSA Johnson? I'm Dr. Spencer Reid."

"Please to meet you. And please—call me Amanda," the new agent replied. In response, the young man nodded and headed to his own desk, getting it in order and ready to start the day. No slouch at profiling herself, Amanda surmised he was reserving judgement until she proved herself one way or another. Rather than be intimidated, she was just grateful he was giving her a chance.

* * *

Derek and Emily came in at the same time, and both immediately noticed the newcomer. Morgan found himself internally bristling, but tried not to let it show—Rossi was right, it wasn't the new girl's fault. He should at least try to be friendly.

He and Emily made their way over, and Derek couldn't help noticing the slight wariness in the new agent's bright green eyes as she looked up. That was what made him realize he wasn't hiding his anger at the situation as well as he thought, and he purposefully tried to relax. It ended up being Emily who spoke first.

"Welcome to the BAU. I'm Prentiss and this is Morgan."

"Amanda," came the reply, and ,with his release of tension, an easing of her walls. In spite of himself, he couldn't help being impressed by how willing she was to stand up for herself: a lesser agent would be walking on eggshells, given the situation. That realization helped him to make up his mind.

With his usual teasing smile in place, he spoke at last. "It's been a while since we've had a new kid on the block, so we're probably a bit rusty, but if you need anything, just ask."

The brown-haired young woman returned the smile, finally relaxing, as if sensing she'd passed some kind of test. "Thanks—I will."

* * *

For once, it seemed the universe conspired in Amanda's favor, because for her first week at the BAU, it was all paperwork and consultations, giving her time to adjust to the new location and new team. She was used to settling in quickly and adapting, and it seemed like the others made a conscious effort to include her as well.

Morgan and Garcia were actually the first two to warm up to the new agent—the technical analyst over cute cat pictures and videos (Amanda being very _definitely_ a cat person) and Derek over...well, over his teasing, to be honest. As it turned out, Amanda had two older brothers, so was very used to well-intentioned teasing, and knew how to respond to it.

Prentiss was a little more reserved at first, though not unfriendly, but gradually over the course of the week she relaxed, and their common ground was found in the fact that, on this team as well as most others they'd been a part of, they were almost always the only women.

With Reid, it was different. The youngest member of the team was grateful (if surprised) that it didn't seem to throw her off to much when he rambled on about one random fact or other—she seemed to take her cue from the others as to how to react to his information—but as both of them tended to be a little cautious when it came to new acquaintances, they remained friendly, if a bit distant, during that first week.

As for Hotch and Rossi...as she was still acutely aware of her position as 'the new girl', SSA Johnson didn't feel comfortable assuming the air of familiarity the others hand with their bosses, deciding it would come in time. But one thing the others were able to pick up on, despite trying not to profile teammates, was that Amanda and Rossi knew each other from somewhere before the interview process.

* * *

 **So, yeah, a bit more of an overview to get things into position—we'll start Amanda's first case, next time. (Don't worry, the residual tension won't last long, I just didn't feel like I could ignore it all together given the circumstances of Amanda's arrival.)  
** **Anyway, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	3. Chapter 2

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here with this week's chapter! This is my first attempt at anything like a case-fic (I don't count 'New Neighbors' chapter 6), so I'm a little nervous about how it will turn out, but hopefully you all like it!  
** **Because I am required to say it: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.**

* * *

It was a good thing Amanda was an early riser, because that Saturday morning, it was barely 6:30 in the morning when she got Penelope's text. There wasn't much there, just the simple message:

 _Come in now, meet in the conference room. We have a case._

Thankful she'd left her go-bag in the office at the start of her first week, Amanda hastily pulled her brown-and-auburn hair back, grabbed a cup of coffee, and bolted out the door, heart pounding.

 _My first case._

* * *

As Amanda took her seat, the others were filtering in, grumbling about the early text and the 'missing' weekend. Morgan noticed the newest member of the team and grinned at her. "Guess this is your crash-course in our life. Hope you didn't have any big plans."

"Actually, I didn't, beyond taking a bit of a rest and breather. I do like leaving my weekends flexible, mostly," Amanda admitted.

Rossi raised an eyebrow at that. "That's a good plan for this job. I'd recommend sticking to it, as much as you can."

Any further banter was cut off as Hotch and Garcia made their entrance, Hotch taking his seat and the technical analyst taking her place at the head of the table, ready to take charge of the screen.

"Alright my crime fighters, this time you'll be heading off to Lafayette, Massachusetts to help with a... _gruesome_ case. In this small town, in the past week and a half, two young women—both brunette, mid-to-late twenties—have been found, dumped in alleys after having been restrained, physically and sexually assaulted, then suffocated and wrapped in plastic. The ME posits that both were held for roughly 12 to 24 hours before being murdered, and so far neither of them have a positive ID."

Hotch then stood up and took over the briefing, to Garcia's evident relief. "The Lafayette Police Force have requested our help in catching the killer before the public starts to panic: they're already having trouble keeping the press out of it, so we'll have to have our own media strategy, which Garcia will be helping to coordinate. Wheels up in thirty."

* * *

Amanda still had her first cup of coffee in hand as she found a seat on the jet, go-bag at her feet. Morgan gave a small laugh as he sat across the aisle. "One more piece of evidence that Hotch made a good choice—you already know what the most important things are for this job," he joked, indicating cup and bag.

"Hey, coffee is the elixir of life in general—whatever your job is," she retorted, matching the teasing smirk.

"Amen to that," Emily chorused, with Rossi nodding in concurrence as the two entered. Reid's agreement was even simpler—a long drink of his own caffeinated beverage.

The joking faded as Hotch came aboard and the plane took off. During the flight, the Unit Chief laid out his plan of attack:

"Garcia will help the force coordinate their media strategy, but one of their own spokespeople will implement it." The words 'because JJ isn't here' were not said, though they were clearly heard, however much Hotch didn't want the team to dwell on that. "Reid and Amanda, I want you to go to the ME's once we land and see what he's found. Prentiss and Morgan, take the first dump site; Rossi and I will take the second after we set up at the station. We'll reconvene and compare notes afterward, work out a preliminary profile."

The others nodded, all business, and Amanda took a deep breath.

 _Here we go._

* * *

The ME was an older, balding, heavy-set man, and he welcomed the two federal agents into his domain with no small amount of relief.

"We've not seen anything like this—not around here, you see. You hear about it happening elsewhere, of course, but you don't think that someone like that would ever live here." Spence opened his mouth, ready with a statistic of how many psychopaths were estimated to live within certain geographical areas, but the older gentleman had already moved on.

"Anyway, like I said in my initial report, he held them for a while. This first girl he had for a least 23 hours before he killed her, but he only held the second for fifteen. I'm not sure what the significance is in the decrease, but I figure that's your job—I just get you the information."

"Are there any head injuries that would indicate these girls were blitz attacked or physically subdued in the initial abduction?" Amanda asked,

The ME shook his head. "No, the earliest bruises are where the restraints would've been. Based on the pattern, they were tied, limbs spread on some kind of bed or mattress." He shook his head, clearly disgusted. "Whoever this man is, he's a monster. To think of the hell these two went through..." Seeming to regain his train of thought, the doctor continued. "There were traces of sleeping aids in both girls systems—the general kind that anyone can get, nothing heavy-duty, but that's probably how he kept them from fighting back while he restrained them. Unfortunately that's as kind as he was..."

Amanda internally braced herself for the rest of the report. Sure, she'd read about pretty terrible things in training, and she'd _been_ through what many people would consider a personal hell, but that never made hearing about it like this any easier, especially when standing between the corpses of the victims.

* * *

When the team re-convened to compare notes, Amanda let Spence take the lead for their portion of the information, and he quickly summarized the most relevant points: the decrease in time held between the first and second victims, the victims had been lured in and given sleeping drugs under some kind of a ruse, the bruising and wound patterns indicated two different attackers, and the sexual assault was the last thing to happen before the strangulation.

Emily frowned. "So, we are definitely looking at a pair of attackers here, but if there is two, why do they need a ruse? With two, they could easily overpower these girls."

"And the assault is almost like an afterthought," Morgan agreed, also confused. "Normally, with a pair like this, it's the whole point."

Rossi nodded. "So something about the physical abuse itself is what they're after, but one or both is getting a side benefit? There's got to be something else there."

"We haven't made much progress in getting the first victim ID'd, but based on what we know of the second, Linda Foreman, we may never get a clear answer, if he goes for the same type. Linda didn't leave much of a paper trail: after she graduated high school, she'd work odd jobs in one town to get enough cash to travel somewhere else, and she wasn't above hitchhiking or getting rides from strangers."

"Just wanting to see the world without being tied down," Emily summarized. "Her parents were up for letting her do that?"

Amanda and Spence, who'd seen the file when they came back from the ME's shook their heads, but it was Spence who elaborated before Hotch could. "She didn't have any—they'd died when she was ten, and she was placed in the foster system. She aged out without ever being adopted, so she was on her own."

"With no one who'd know if she disappeared," Morgan pointed out. "Talk about high-risk lifestyle. If the first girl was the same, they're going after the kind of girls who don't get reported missing."

"Which means they could have another right now—Linda was found four days ago, the first victim six days before that. With the decrease in time held, we're looking at a possible escalation," Prentiss finished. "We need to find these bastards before they kill again."

* * *

The team was still discussing the enigmatic profile a half-hour later, when one of the deputies poked his head into the conference room.

"Agent Hotchner?" the young man asked uncertainly.

"Yes?" Hotch looked up, knowing only a handful of possibilities warranted such an interruption, and almost none of them were good.

"We just found a third body."

* * *

 **So, yeah. Amanda's first case has begun. I figure I'd start myself off with a relatively simple one, in terms of precedent established by the show, just until I get used to the format. I may get a little more creative with later cases. The conclusion of this case will be in the next chapter, so I will see you guys next week!  
** **As always, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	4. Chapter 3

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here with part 2 of Amanda's first BAU case! I realize she's not taking as proactive a role in this investigation, but, as she gets more comfortable with the team, that will change!  
** **Because I am required to say it: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.**

* * *

 _The team was still discussing the enigmatic profile a half-hour later, when one of the deputies poked his head into the conference room._

" _Agent Hotchner?" the young man asked uncertainly._

" _Yes?" Hotch looked up, knowing only a handful of possibilities warranted such an interruption, and almost none of them were good._

" _We just found a third body."_

* * *

Like the other two dump sites, this one was a trash-filled alley. The new girl—young, petite brunette like others—was wrapped in plastic and fully clothed, though covered in the evidence of physical beatings, just like the first two victims.

Amanda frowned at several observations as Morgan and Spencer began pointing them out.

"The fact that they were all re-dressed and wrapped in plastic indicates some amount of remorse," the young doctor began.

The slightly older agent nodded. "But strangulation is personal, anger-filled. He wanted to feel them die. Then he's dumping them here, calling them trash, basically. If it weren't for that, I'd say one partner felt remorse and handled the disposal of the bodies and the other committed the assault and murder..."

"Instead of remorse, it feels more like taking out the trash," Amanda put in, a ghost of an idea screaming in the back of her head. "And the attacks were carried out by two people, and none of the injuries indicated hesitation or remorse."

Hotch and Rossi glanced at each other, a light of comprehension in their eyes. "We need to get back to the station—we're almost ready to give the profile."

* * *

"We aren't just looking for a pair of UnSubs," Hotch began. "The treatment of the bodies would indicate the involvement of a woman, and the fact that everything up until the assault and murder was carried out by both at once indicates a nearly-coequal relationship."

"That's why we think we're looking at a married couple," Emily said, picking up the team's train of thought. "It would also explain why and how this team used a ruse to get these women to let their guard down."

It was Rossi's turn to speak now. "The woman would be less likely to put them on edge, she might have even offered them shelter and food for the night."

"But why are they doing it, then?" one of the officers asked, and it was Morgan who answered him.

"Given that the focus seems to be the beatings, it would seem to be some kind of foreplay for them, or something to do together, to bring them closer."

Spence now jumped in. "But it's not working—the husband has an ulterior motive. It's likely he is a serial adulterer and the true psychopath in the relationship, and the woman is trying to cater to his desires and keep their relationship together."

"Wait...what makes you think the wife isn't in on the rape and killing?" another officer asked, clearing not buying that profiling could tell them quite _that_ much.

Now Amanda spoke up. That observation had been Spence's, and it'd been the key to the profile. "Everything up until that point—the abduction, drugging, restraining, and beating, had been carried out together, but suddenly only the man assaults and murders the girls, right after worked so closely with this wife. A man like that either can't or won't remain loyal to a single woman, and if they're still married, the effort had to have been on her, meaning this was probably another one of her attempts to fix the marriage. That also explains the dump sites—the woman is disposing of the bodies, cleaning up her house, but she sees these women as trash that is breaking up their marriage instead of fixing it."

The newest profiler fell silent as Hotch again took the lead, explain to the assembled officers just what sort of people they'd be looking for.

* * *

"Alright, my dashing crime fighters," Penelope chimed in as the conference call began, "please tell me that you have something for me to help you with that doesn't involve reporters and PR people—I need a break and a chance to do what I am good at."

"Garcia..." Hotch began.

"Right! Sorry, sir. My fingers are yours to command—tell me what I am looking for, and I will have it for you in a trice."

Rossi was the first to begin describing the couple. "We're looking for a married couple—the woman will have gone to marriage counseling quite a few times, but the husband hasn't."

Morgan then took up the thread. "He's also had violent tendencies for a while, so as a young man, he may have had run-ins with the law, but probably wasn't arrested."

"She won't have mentioned any physical attacks, but if the beatings were what aroused him, she's probably had quite a few ER visits that have steadily decreased over the years," Amanda put in. It made a sick kind of sense—as their unorthodox relationship soured, the ER visits would've slowed at the counseling sessions would've begun. "They'll also have a large, isolated house and will have bought a large amount of sleep aids recently."

They could practically _hear_ Garcia's shudder. "Right...There is no end to the flavors of crazy and sick; I should've known by now."

"Anything?" Prentiss asked.

"And...yes! I got the names and address for your marriage from hell," Garcia reported, "Wilson and Hellen Kaymon. I'm sending you the address to your tablets now."

* * *

Since they didn't have specific physical evidence yet, the best they could hope to do was bring the couple in for questioning and interrogate them separately, pushing the buttons that the profile had highlighted to get them to trip up and admit guilt.

That didn't take nearly as long as they'd expected it to, however: they'd arrived in the middle of an argument between the Kaymons, as Helen had finally had enough of Wilson's infidelity. As soon as she saw them pull up, she started screaming at the cops and FBI alike.

"It was him! He kept killing them so I wouldn't know what he'd done, the bastard! All that I went through, all that I did for the two of us, and he kept killing those girls because he didn't even want to fight for this!"

Wilson retaliated in kind. "You aren't innocent, either, Helen! You're the one who kept bringing new girls—what else was I supposed to do?"

The two were cuffed and led to separate cars, Amanda helping Prentiss with Helen, who abruptly shifted her focus to the shorter woman. "I didn't do anything wrong—all I was doing was trying to meet him in the middle. You won't understand unless you've been married. No one is willing to do what it takes today to fight for their marriage."

"Nothing justifies that level of abuse or torture. Even if you never meant for those girls to die, your marriage is not reason enough to put them through that agony."

Prentiss glanced over at the other agent as Helen was at last settled in the back of one of the cruisers. Amanda's voice had been calm, she supposed, but almost too clam. She hadn't exactly risen to Helen's taunt, but something in the situation had made the 'new girl' remember something—Emily was a good enough profiler to tell that Amana's words had been as much for someone else as they had been for Helen. The dark-haired woman filed that information away for later; this wasn't the time to pry.

 _But there's definitely a difficult past, here._

* * *

As Amanda settled back on the plane, ready to head home with the rest of the team, Rossi paused by her seat. "You did good today, Mandy; you'll fit in seamlessly in no time."

"Thanks, Rossi," she replied with a genuine smile. She could tell Rossi was checking in on her—seeing if she was all right after her first BAU case—because he had that look in his eye, so she nodded subtly. She was fine; he didn't have to worry.

Rossi returned the slight nod, asking over his shoulder as he made his way to his own seat. "Maybe next weekend will be a little more relaxing for you."

"Oh, if things go as planned, it should be," Amanda responded, thinking of the coming week with excitement, though she tried to stay realistic.

 _A case can come at any time, after all. At least now I know I can handle them._

* * *

 **So, yeah. I'm not too hugely into this case, but I think some of my later ideas are better; I just wanted to get my feet wet with something a little closer to the show's formula. And yes, I had a few more hints to Amanda's past—more than I originally intended, honestly; some of them just came out.  
** **As always: if you saw something you like, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	5. Chapter 4

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here! This week's chapter explains how I can justify the 'romance' tag without shipping Amanda with any of her co-workers. I hope you enjoy it and that it turns out well (this kind of fluff not normally being in my wheelhouse).  
** **Because I am required to say it: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.**

* * *

The next weekend, to everyone's relief, was free of a case, leaving them time with family, friends, or loved ones.

As Amanda bustled around her apartment that Saturday morning, getting her bag ready and making sure she had her phone, keys, etc., she couldn't stop a smile at the thought of the man she was going to meet...Joseph Madison, her boyfriend of three years, though they'd known each other for five years.

In fact, they'd met each other at the academy, and though they hadn't ever been assigned to the same teams, they'd both been based in Quantico, meaning that it was easy for them to spend time together, provided they could get their schedules to align—something they put in conscious effort to do.

She'd been frankly terrified when he first asked her out—she'd actually not had a boyfriend before, and the thought of letting down her guard had seemed impossible at first, but Joseph had been willing to go slowly, and never pressed or pressured her. It wasn't until last year that she'd told him everything about her past, but after she did, they'd only grown closer. Though neither had yet said it aloud, both felt this was something that could stand the test of time.

* * *

The day started, as most of their Saturdays together did, at a local gym—one that had an indoor parkour course. It was actually through running obstacle courses and following _American Ninja Warrior_ that they had met, and both integrated some parkour and obstacle courses into their workout, giving them an excuse to train together.

Joseph was waiting outside the gym as Amanda arrived, and he greeted her with a quick peck on the cheek. He stood six foot two, so he practically towered over Amanda's five foot four frame, but both knew she could hold her own in most of their little friendly competitions. Joseph's hair was a dark shade of brown, and his eyes were a warm shade of hazel, and while some might've thought him unremarkable or ordinary looking, that wasn't what Amanda saw when she looked at him.

He'd been one of her best friends during the hardest time of her adult life, when she was convinced she'd flunk out of the academy. Joseph had studied with her every night, and though he wasn't necessarily a better student, working with someone else helped stave off any panic attacks and keep her focused. And once that time had passed, he didn't pull back, and he'd been willing to wait to explore their relationship further until she was ready.

As clichéd as it was, she loved him for his kindness, for his support, for his patience, for his loyalty, and for his understanding. His humor and the fact that they shared many interests and hobbies were the icing and sprinkles on the cake. But more than all of that, around him, she felt _safe_.

That didn't stop her from trying to outdo him every time they trained together—far from it. They _always_ turned their runs into friendly competitions, whether it was on a track, treadmill, or obstacle course. Over the years, they'd found each other's strengths, and where each had the advantage:

Joseph's longer legs allowed him to be faster out of the gate, and he was better at obstacles focused on grip strength and upper-body tests, but Amanda had more endurance and was better at balance and strategy-focused obstacles.

Still, it was all in fun, and since there wasn't much opportunity for conversation in this part of their day together, they tried not to take too long—usually between 90 minutes and 2 hours. After an hour and a half that Saturday, both headed to the showers to clean up, promising to meet outside. This day had only just started; there was still much to do together.

* * *

After they left the gm, they hopped in Joseph's car and headed to one of their favorite lunch spots—this little café they'd found about a year after graduating. The hostess smiled in recognition, seating them at their usual window table, chuckling as she handed over the menus—knowing all too well the two FBI agents wouldn't even look at them.

Sure enough, Amanda ordered her favorite soup and salad, Joseph his sandwich, and they settled back to wait—in no rush, simply enjoying the atmosphere and the company.

"So, things going well in your unit?" Amanda asked.

Joseph nodded. "Just wrapped up the case I was telling you about on Tuesday. Good thing too, or I'd have to work this weekend—it was that bad."

"I know the feeling," Amanda muttered, thinking of the BAU's trip to Massachusetts the previous weekend. Joseph had been a good sport, but it'd been a wake-up call to the couple, reminding them that there was no such thing as routine anymore...not that they'd had much to start with, only Saturdays. "And I bet you're not the only one—doesn't Lynn have a little guy at home?" Lynn was Joseph's partner, and a good friend to Amanda after the two had met.

"Yeah, but Jackson starts preschool in the fall—the munchkin's four already, if you can believe that."

The brown-haired young woman had to shake her head and chuckle. "It's hard—I keep picturing the little two-year-old I met at your unit's Christmas Party a few years ago. Preschool already...how is Lynn going to handle that?"

"Honestly, I don't think she will," Joseph admitted, laughing. "She's not ready for him to grow up."

Since Joseph had been a part of the same team since graduation, most of his coworkers were Amanda's friends as well, so he filled her in on the latest news—at least, the bits he knew she cared to know. Before he could ask about life at the BAU, Amanda got him sidetracked into a conversation about food and cooking and different recipes both had tried (both saw cooking as a way to de-stress and escape from FBI life), and he wondered in the back of his mind if there was a conscious reason she avoided the topic, or if her mind had simply jumped rabbit trials, as it sometimes did when she was relaxed.

* * *

When the two spent the day together, the afternoon was the time they didn't have a set plan—every time it was something different, sometimes spontaneous, and this time was no different. In the past they'd done everything from browsing used bookstores to meandering through a zoo to playing laser tag—anything to de-stress. That day?

"Is there something wrong with this picture?" Joseph asked, laughing as they entered the theater.

Amanda matched his laugh. "What: the over-priced concession stand or two FBI agents going to watch the latest Pixar film without a single child in tow?"

"Definitely the prices," Joseph answered quickly. "Our generation never really stopped going to kids movies, regardless of profession."

* * *

After the movie, they returned to Amanda's apartment, as their dinners together were usually home-made. This was her turn to cook, and while she did, they talked at last about her first two weeks at the BAU, proving Joseph's earlier fears unfounded—she hadn't been purposefully avoiding the topic.

"They really miss JJ—which is understandable—but they're making sure that I feel like a part of the team...the BAU family, as they think of it."

"Family, huh?" Joseph asked.

Amanda nodded. "They never say it outright, but it's pretty clear: Hotch is the father, Rossi the uncle, Garcia the crazy cousin, Prentiss and Morgan, the older siblings and Reid. the baby brother."

Joseph hesitated for a second as he watched Amanda cook—the last time he'd entered the kitchen while she worked, he'd been soundly rebuked—before finally asking, "And you?"

"...I'm not sure yet. I'm somewhere between the new neighbor who's being welcomed warmly and a cousin they just learned existed," she answered a last, before rushing to clarify, "They aren't keeping me at arm's length, we're just all adjusting to the dynamic—in the office as well as in the field."

To illustrate, she told him about the Massachusetts case, without going into too many grisly details. Joseph listened to her words, but also watched to get a sense of how she was feeling—if she really was as comfortable in her new job as she claimed. To his relief, she was.

 _Maybe this really was the best move after all._ He'd worried that it wouldn't be, but contrary to conventional wisdom, the team of profilers had been the right fit for Amanda.

* * *

They lingered over dinner as long as they could, but eventually, even the calm, peaceful days have to come to an end, and Joseph had to return home. At the door, he paused, planting a soft kiss on Amanda's lips before whispering, "I'm glad you're settling in—it sounds like you've found a good place."

Amanda didn't pull away, whispering as well, "I think I have; I just wish the price wasn't the ability to plan ahead for time together."

"Hey...we'll make it work. Whatever it takes."

One more kiss, and he, at last, had to leave, not fully aware of just how much his final words meant to the young woman standing in the living room of her apartment.

" _...We'll make it work. Whatever it takes."_

* * *

 **So, yeah. Not much going on in this one, but that will change—I just wanted to set up the relationship of Joseph and Amanda. Both will be more fully developed as the story goes on, and more cases will come soon.  
** **As always, if you saw something you like, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	6. Chapter 5

**Because I love you guys, (and to ensure that this fic will wrap up at the same time as 'Watch What Happens') you guys are getting** _ **two**_ **chapters this week!**

* * *

 **Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here! Our first fluff break is over, so it's back to cases! (There will be others—hopefully better written—later on. I want to balance out my two main ways of developing and rounding out Amanda's character.)  
** **Because I am required to say it: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.**

* * *

Monday had been quiet—another paperwork day—but that ended a little after four as Hotch came out of his office. "Conference room—now. We have a local boy abducted about fifteen minutes ago."

Amanda surged to her feet with the others, surprised but grateful that they'd gotten word so fast—she knew that every second counted when it came to child abductions.

Apparently, she wasn't the only one who noticed the quick turnaround. "Only fifteen minutes?" Morgan asked. "Really local, then?"

Hotch nodded. "Jason Willet, age ten, was at a neighborhood park near his house while his fifteen-year-old sister, Hannah, kept an eye on him. She turned away, and when she looked back, she saw a man leading him away, into a car. The family called the cops, who referred the case to us immediately. That's how we got the information so fast."

"Good thing, too," Rossi pointed out, voicing what they all knew, "Time's going to be of the essence on this one. Did the sister recognize the man?"

"No, but it's usually the mom that goes with Jason," Hotch answered, "though Jason did go willingly, as far as Hannah could see. Morgan, Prentiss, I want you to take a look around the abduction sight, Rossi and I will talk with the parents; Reid, you and Amanda see what more you can get from Hannah."

All nodded, gathered their necessary things, and half-ran to the garage, each praying that this would be one of the few cases with a happy ending. Loud in Amanda's mind was one of the first things Rossi had ever told her about this job:

 _Cases with kids are the hardest for everyone._

* * *

"I—I only looked down for a second—I was texting with my boyfriend. Then I looked up, and some guy was taking Jason away. By the time I realized what was going on, they'd gotten into the car and driven away! Oh, god—it's all my fault!"

Amanda leaned forward, heart breaking as much at the sister's guilt as the situation at hand. "Hannah, it's _not_ your fault; you couldn't have known. In fact, you can help us now—give us a better chance of finding your brother."

The teen didn't seem to hear her, and kept muttering. "He's my little brother, and the last thing I said to him was that I'd rather be anywhere but watching him. I was upset that Mom was too busy to take him, that she still thought he needed someone watching him, and now _this_..."

Spence shifted on the couch in the family room, clearly uncomfortable, probably wishing he was in the dining room with the parents, so Amanda spoke up again. "Hannah, Hannah _listen_ to me." Finally the girl looked up, and the brown-haired agent continued. "You can't always predict or control what bad people do to your family, and you can't change what you said or how you felt, but if you help us, tell us what you can remember, we will do everything in our power to get your brother back so that you can apologize."

Spencer was mildly impressed as Hannah seemed to take the other agent's words to heart, taking a deep breath and trying to get herself under control. He'd also noticed something behind the sincerity in Amanda's tone—empathy was the only word he could think of, but he didn't know enough about her background to know how she identified with the teen in front of them. All he knew about her family was that she had two older brothers, one in Tennessee and one in Michigan, as she was very closed-mouthed about some things.

Now was not the time to profile their newest teammate, however, as they prepared the cognitive interview, praying they could find Jason in time.

* * *

While Morgan, Prentiss, and Hotch were working on location with local law enforcement, the rest of the team was sorting through family history and acquaintances, trying to see if there were any indications this was anything other than a stranger abduction.

Amanda was just looking at the list of everyone who'd seen Jason during his last annual check-up only a few weeks before, but it was no one out of the ordinary—no one with priors or red flags. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Reid stop and sit up straighter, and she glanced up. "Found something?"

"Jason had another sister," he replied, half-muttering. "Mrs. Willet was carrying fraternal twins, but miscarried the daughter. Jason was born premature, but has recovered to the point you wouldn't know."

Rossi, also having looked up, raised a single eyebrow. "Do you think it's significant?" Amanda noticed the question wasn't a reprimand or sarcastic, the older agent was genuinely asking, obviously trusting Spence would not have mentioned it if he didn't think it was important.

"Possibly," was the younger man's response, before he turned to Garcia, who'd set up her laptop in the conference room. "Garcia, can you pull up an old case file? It was a serial abduction/murder case that went cold periodically...first abduction would've been eight years ago, always went for boys who were surviving twins—"

"Got it!" the technician called before Reid could even finish giving the details. Her elation quickly faded, however. "Oh, and it's not a happy one. You're right—there's an unsub we've never been able to catch because has a seriously long cool-down period and keeps moving around. Eight years ago, he abducted Patrick Fynn, aged 7, who'd lost a twin brother to cancer two years before. He left a taunting note at the abduction sight a few hours later, then, after two days, the police found Patrick's body. Since then, he's abducted five more boys between the ages of four and eleven—all of whom are surviving twins—and left the same message every time: 'if you couldn't keep one, what makes you think you can keep the other?' This guy's sick..."

Amanda felt cold dread settle in her stomach the more Garcia told them. Their timeline had just gotten a lot shorter—if it was the same unsub. "And he killed them all within two days?"

"According to the various ME's, yes. Although, the third body, that of Malcolm Jones, aged 6, was never found. He was abducted four years ago, but while there was a note, they never found the poor boy."

Spencer frowned. "That's why I remembered it. Malcolm and his brother Dennis had gotten lost and separated in the woods a few days before, and while Malcolm had been found in time, the brother hadn't. All the other bodies were left where they'd be found in a matter of hours, so it was odd that Malcolm's never turned up. After that, the other three were all killed within twenty-four hours of abduction."

"So if this is the same guy, the key is finding out what was different about Malcolm, since he must've represented something different to the unsub?" Amanda asked, and the other two profilers nodded.

Rossi frowned, hoping that the BAU's resident genius was wrong, for once. "We'll know soon, the taunts were all left within 2 or 3 hours of the initial abduction."

* * *

Within half an hour, both Rossi and Spence were proven right—Hotch called them to tell the other half of the team about the note that had been found just inside the police line at the park, left sometime in the confusion and recently discovered, bearing the dreaded message that banished reasonable doubt:

 _If you couldn't keep one, what makes you think you can keep the other?_

* * *

 **So, yeah. A bit of a darker one and a cliffhanger on a case dealing with kids—apparently, I am evil. As recompense, I did give a little more concrete and implied hints about Amanda's mysterious background. I hope you enjoyed the bonus chapter this week, and I promise the conclusion of this case will come in seven short days!  
** **As always: if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	7. Chapter 6

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here with the conclusion of our second case! Sorry if this one got a bit dark guys; I was trying to hold true to the show's mood and precedent, so the cases will be heavy, but interspersed with fluff and character development.  
** **Because I am required to say it: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.**

* * *

 _Within half an hour, both Rossi and Spence were proven right—Hotch called them to tell the other half of the team about the note that had been found just inside the police line at the park, left sometime in the confusion and recently discovered, bearing the dreaded message that banished reasonable doubt:_

If you couldn't keep one, what makes you think you can keep the other?

* * *

What was different about Malcolm Jones?

That was wat the profilers had to figure out if they were going to get into the head of the unsub in time to find Jason Willet alive. All teams were now back, and Morgan was the first to speak, frowning at the case information before them. "Starting with the obvious, something about the surviving twin dynamic is important to this guy, so these boys are probably all surrogates for someone—probably the unsub himself."

"Or if not himself exactly, for the sibling he lost? He could be trying to replace a twin sibling he outlived," Spence pointed out.

Amanda hesitated, but she had an idea that'd been bugging her. "Malcolm was abducted so shortly after he and his brother got lost in the woods—he was just home from the hospital, and they still had search parties out looking for Dennis." She swallowed, a little nervous when she realized her whole team was looking at her, but she couldn't top halfway. "Malcolm was pretty young—that young, death is a hard concept to understand, let alone accept. He could've believed Dennis was still alive, waiting to be found. All of the others had been given time to accept that their brother or sister was dead—or, like Jason, never known them at all."

"Could be true," Hotch admitted, tone and face neutral, "but is it relevant?"

Amanda took a deep breath, then finished her thought. "Possibly, but it may be a stretch. I just noticed that, before Malcolm he struck across racial boundaries and without regard to appearance, but afterwards, all the boys he took were pale with dark brown hair and eyes—like Malcolm."

"But the ages are all wrong," Emily pointed out. "Malcolm was six, but Jason's ten, and the other two—"

"—Were the age Malcolm would've been at the time they were abducted." Amanda finished for the other woman. "As I said, this is a stretch, but if the unsub had a similar experience to Malcolm, he could've identified with him, wanted to help him by replacing Dennis. But the other boys insist that they aren't Dennis, or Malcolm can tell, and the unsub's old urge to kill comes back. It could explain the shortened time before the murders."

Most of the team still seemed hesitant, but Reid and Rossi were nodding as the processed her thoughts. "So, what started as an attempt to find his own brother turned into a search for Dennis Jones?" Without waiting for an answer, Rossi turned to Garcia. "Based on the time the abductions and murders started, this guy would probably be in his mid to late thirties, and to know that each boy was a surviving twin, had to have access to their medical records. That narrows it down to doctor's employees and school system—"

"But Cyrus Falman was too young for school when he was abducted," Reid pointed out.

Rossi nodded. "Right. Second victim. So, Garcia, look for men about the right age who were living in each town, employed in some capacity at each boy's primary care facility. That should narrow it down enough..."

"It does!" Garcia chirped, then deflated. "And our newest profiler is on the money about this guy having a similar story to Malcolm Jones—Tristian Gordon and his twin brother were lost on a camping trip in winter when they were five, got separated, and only Tristian was found in time."

"Has he claimed any kind of dependent at any of his addresses?" Amanda asked, desperate for confirmation that Malcolm could be alive.

"No—but he buys too much food for a single guy, and occasionally stops by toy stores, so he might have that poor little boy with him still."

Hotch was already on his feet and halfway out the door, with the rest on his heels. "Send us home and work addresses, Garcia."

"I'm on it like a cat on a laser pointer, sir!"

* * *

Hotch, Morgan, and Prentiss took the work address while Rossi, Reid, and Amanda headed to Tristan Gordon's home. There were no cars out front, no sign that Tristan was there. After thoroughly casing the outside, the older agent motioned that they should move into the interior. Amanda nodded her understanding, praying both boys were inside, alive and unharmed.

The first floor was clear, so Rossi headed up to the second while the younger two went to the basement. When Amanda saw the small cot and the dim room that a child had obviously tried to make feel like some semblance of home, her heart broke a little, then she saw the two boys. Sure enough, Malcolm and Jason looked like they could be related, and both stared at her in fear and surprise.

She and Spence glanced around to be sure the boys were the only ones in the room before she holstered her gun and moved closer to the two ten-year-olds. "Malcolm? Jason? I'm SSA Johnson and this is Dr. Reid; we're with the FBI, and we're going to get you out of here, get you back to your families." Jason's expression turned hopeful, but Malcolm's remained slightly mystified, as if her words didn't quite make sense, or as if they were too good to be true. Eventually both stood to follow the two agents as Spence radioed Rossi to let them know they'd found the boys.

Halfway across the living room, they were surprised by none other than Tristian Gordon, who'd fled back to the house when he'd seen the FBI approaching the hospital he worked at. The wild-eyed man rushed the small group from behind, and Amanda reacted instinctively, moving between Reid, the boys, and the threat, drawing her gun and barking: "FBI—freeze!"

He didn't stop charging them, so she fired quickly, aiming low to get him in the leg and stop him without killing him. She knew that the BAU wanted to arrest as many alive is possible, but more than that, she didn't want the boys to have to see someone—even Tristian Gordon—die in front of them.

Rossi came charging down the stairs and helped Amanda secure Tristan while Spence ushered Jason and Malcolm outside, where the rest of the team was now pulling up, ready to take them back to the station, and their relieved families.

* * *

Amanda was surprised, but Malcolm Jones clung to her the whole time they waited for his family to make it to Quantico. Neither said much, but the young woman allowed the young boy to shadow her, even agreeing to stay late until the Jones family could reunite with their son.

Morgan, Prentiss, and Reid glanced over at the two a few times, profiling their teammate in spite of themselves. "She's really good with him," Morgan observed. "You'd think she was an older sister, not a youngest."

Emily hesitated to reveal what the other woman had told her in a private conversation, but decided it was preferable to one of the others accidentally putting their foot in their mouth. "She spent quite a few years in the foster care system, so she's probably used to helping younger kids who've been through some pretty rough stuff."

* * *

Eventually the Jones family, still reeling from the miracle they hadn't dared to hope for, arrived and enjoyed a tearful reunion with the son they never thought they'd see again, and Amanda returned to her desk area to pack up and head back to her apartment.

As she did, she noticed that the others were doing the same, but while Prentiss and Morgan seemed at the very least relieved that the case had ended as well as it had, Spence was tense, and his movements short and sharp—as new as she was to the unit, Amanda knew that wasn't normal and that something was wrong.

She stared to say something, but before she could, he brushed right by her and out the door. That _really_ wasn't like him, and she was determined to ask him what was wrong the next time she could.

Tonight, though, all she wanted to do was sleep.

* * *

 **So, yeah. Not sure what I think of the ending; it didn't really turn out like I wanted it to. Hopefully I can still take this story where I want it to.  
** **As always, if you saw something you like, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know.**


	8. Chapter 7

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here! Welcome to our next fluff break (though this will not be traditional fluff in the romantic sense)! It's funny, I wrote this well in advance of posting it, as I do most of my stories, so ended up writing this chapter at Christmastime—you'll understand why that's odd when you read it.  
** **Because I am required to say it: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.**

* * *

To everyone's relief (and any cynic's surprise), the rest of the week was eventless—and caseless—after the two missing boys were returned home. This had the end result that, by Friday, most of the team was nearly if not completely caught up on paperwork.

At the end of the day, the younger agents slowly packed up, joking with each other good-naturedly about what their weekend plans were, and whether they thought they could get through them without interruptions. Reid, however, did not join in the banter any more than necessary as he made his way out, reinforcing Amanda's gut feeling something was wrong with the next-youngest agent. She hadn't had a chance to ask him about it though...

"You're coming in early to help on Monday, right Kid?" Morgan asked after the retreating figure.

Spence raised his hand in acknowledgement, calling back, "Of course!" without turning around.

Amanda frowned, turning to Morgan. "Help with what on Monday?"

"I forgot—this'll be your first Halloween with us here," he replied, laughing. "See, its Reid's favorite holiday, so he gets the rest of us into the spirit. Case or not, next week's gonna be interesting, Green."

Filling the information about Halloween away for later reference, Amanda focused on something else. "Still trying to come up with a good nickname for me? Where'd you get 'green' from?"

Emily snorted at Morgan's dissatisfied expression. "Just tell me it wasn't based on her eye color." It was clear that was _exactly_ what it had been, so Prentiss rolled her eyes as she grabbed her bag and made her way out as well, leaving Morgan and Amanda the only ones still in—besides Hotch in his office, of course.

"One of these days, I'll hit on the right one. Anyway, you said something about the gym tomorrow?"

Amanda shrugged. "Yeah, I try to get there at least once a weekend. I run as much as I can on my own, but I like running the obstacle course they have."

"Obstacles, huh?" Morgan asked. "Like, Spartan Racing or ANW?"

"Ninja Warrior meets free running—I like the quicker, more gymnastic side of the sport," she answered.

"So we got ourselves a little ninja here?" Suddenly Morgan grinned, and Amanda knew what was coming next.

"Ninja! It'll work, unless something better comes along!"

She faked a groan, but honestly, she knew it was a sign of inclusion and acceptance, and she was grateful.

* * *

When Amanda made it back to the office on Monday, she finally saw what Morgan meant about Spence getting the whole team into the spirit of Halloween.

 _We have to be the only unit that decorates for Halloween—let alone_ _this_ _much._ Still, there was something fun about it, and it wasn't like she had many Halloween memories growing up. _So why not make them now?_ At that thought, she smiled as she began to make her way to her desk...

...Until Spence jumped out at her, wearing some kind of monster mask and the others learned that, when startled, Amanda yelped very much like a little girl.

 _I'm not going to live that one down for a while._

* * *

They didn't have a case that week, though they did have to consult a few times and work through the mountains of paperwork that the FBI seemed to excel at creating. Still, a change of pace was not unwelcome, and it _did_ leave Amanda with enough downtime to soak up the BAU Halloween experience.

For the most part, that seemed to consist of some small pranks—mostly on the part of Spence and Morgan—and discussions of what costumes the younger members of the BAU 'extended family' would/should wear. Since Amanda hadn't actually met Jack or Henry, she overserved the conversations but didn't really contribute much.

Then, on Friday, Garcia all but skidded to a halt in front of the auburn-haired woman's desk. "Amanda! I hadn't realized—you haven't been here long—didn't know—that is, if you don't have plans—oh, why didn't I tell you sooner?"

"Tell me what?" Amanda dared to ask, barely able to make much sense of Penelope's garbled rambles.

The blonde took a couple deep breaths before continuing. "Every Halloween, I host a little get-together for our group at my place. It starts at six, but those who have to take their kids trick-or-treating come later. By now, the invitation's unspoken...I forgot you didn't know. If you don't already have plans—" The tech analyst paused, hopeful, and Amanda smiled to reassure her.

"Actually, I hadn't." And she didn't, either. Joseph had been going to plan something, but had been called unexpectedly out of town for a case. "I'd love to come—do I need to bring anything like a potluck dish?"

Now Morgan spoke up. "Believe me, when you see the spread that Baby Girl puts out for this party, you won't worry about such things, Ninja."

Garcia nodded. "He's right—food is my way of cementing the bonds of family. Just bring yourself!"

Amanda smiled, genuinely looking forward to the weekend. Then Garcia called as she left. "Oh, and this year, I thought I'd go traditional and have a costume party." Amanda froze, glancing at the time—almost 3:15. She had a little over twenty-four hours to decide on and find her first Halloween costume.

 _Great._

* * *

After some preliminary on-line research and a thorough examination of her closet, Amanda decided to go the home-assembled route. _Why are there no costumes for adult women that aren't overly sexualized?_

She didn't have much time to ponder the current cultural trends, however—she had work to do!

* * *

She checked the mirror again, frowning uncertainly. She had five minutes to leave before she'd be late to the party, but Amanda couldn't quite bring herself to leave the apartment. She was having second and third thoughts about her costume—really, about wearing a costume in general. She tried to remind herself of all the Halloweens she'd spent as a kid wishing she could dress up like everybody else and go out, but it was only the thought of being the only one out of costume that finally spurred her into action.

* * *

It was Morgan who answered the door when Amanda arrived—Garcia was in the kitchen, talking with Hotch and JJ while Rossi and Spence discussed books in the living room. He was trying to decide if he expected it to be Prentiss or Amanda, and he ended up losing his bet with himself. "Hey, Ninja! A pirate, huh? Didn't go with the obvious?"

"I don't own enough black," she responded with a grin, obviously relieved her costume had been a simple one to work out. Really, it hadn't been hard—her costume base had been a white button-up about a size too big and a black pair of pants that could've been jeans and a tall pair of brown boots. One colorful scarf had been tied around her waist as a belt and another over her light-brown-and-auburn hair, and the whole ensemble had been finished off with a couple of necklaces of varying lengths and a pair of gold hoop earrings Morgan had never seen Amanda wear.

Morgan himself had found his favorite football player's jersey and a hat for the corresponding team, Garcia's costume appeared to be one of her usual outfits with the addition of a pair of fairy wings, and Spence had brought one of his many monster masks. JJ had gone simple, with a par of mouse ears and a hair bow, while Hotch wore a T-shirt that declared that _was_ his costume. Perhaps it wasn't that creative, but it was odd enough to see their chief dressed so casually that no one really commented on it. Rossi, on the other hand, had been challenged when he appeared in one of his normal suits.

"Why spend money on a costume I'll wear once a year— _if_ that—when I have just what I need to go as a Mafia member?" the older agent countered.

This sparked some lively debate about whether or not it was an acceptable costume, which prompted Amanda to relate one of her oldest brother's escapades that rivaled Rossi's audacity. "We didn't really grow up celebrating Halloween, so when Josh was in college and got invited to a Halloween party for the first time, it didn't occur to him that it would be a costume party. So he shows up in his normal autumn look—worn jeans, his tan leather coat he found in a thrift store and a Greek-fisherman's-style hat— _and_ this was the year he grew his beard. So anyway, he shows up, sees everyone else in costume, and is at least quick enough to put it all together. The host greets him, asks what his costume is supposed to be, and without missing a beat, Jason says, 'a Bolshevik revolutionist!'"

The story was met with laughter, and the party continued on. Morgan noticed two things—one, Spence seemed to be ignoring Amanda, which wasn't good. If those two had gotten into a fight, it could affect their work on cases, since Hotch tended to pair them off when giving assignments. Making a mental note to talk to the younger man on Monday, he turned his mind to his other observation: Amanda seemed a little quieter than normal, looking around with barely-hidden wonder.

 _She wasn't kidding about not celebrating Halloween._

Just then, Prentiss arrived in the strangest outfit of all: a black shirt and pants under a red trench coat with matching, wide-brimmed fedora and and bright-red lipstick. She paused, as if waiting for the others to recognize it, but only JJ looked anywhere close to being able to identify it, and even she looked more confused than certain.

Emily looked form face to face, disbelieving. "Carmen Sandiego—anyone?"

Morgan, Spence, Amanda, and Hotch shook their heads, JJ still seemed to be trying to remember where she knew the name from, and Rossi tilted his head to one side. "Wasn't that a game show years ago? I don't remember her actually being a character..."

"That's where it started, but then there was a cartoon and a series of games...?" Emily kept looking around, waiting for recognition to dawn, but even JJ shrugged. "Figures," the dark-haired woman sighed, before grabbing Amanda by the arm and dragging her over to JJ, determined the two would meet at last (Amanda hadn't yet worked up her courage to approach the other woman, apparently).

The night continued on, filled with friends, family, laughter, conversation, and _way_ too much sugar.

* * *

 **So, yeah. Maybe it's the season, but I struggled to write this, meaning I finally finished writing this on Christmas Eve. On a humorous side note, the story with Amanda's brother actually happened to** _ **my**_ **brother (but he didn't have the excuse of not celebrating Halloween).  
** **As always, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	9. Chapter 8

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here with tis weeks chapter! This was an...** _ **odd**_ **one, for me. Let's just say this one taught me not to plan case ideas before doing research, so this is a completely different case than what I'd originally intended to write about. Moral of the story: always do your homework, kiddies!  
** **Because I am required to say it: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.**

* * *

Morgan never did get the chance to talk to Spence on Monday, as he'd intended—first thing in the morning, they were called into the conference room, which could only mean one thing—a new case.

Sure enough, Garcia took her place at the front, pulling up the pictures of four women: a young blonde, two middle-aged women, a brunette and an African-American lady, and an older lady whose grey hair still had a few traces of red in it. _Doesn't have a physical type, and doesn't care about age or racial boundaries._ Amanda noted just as Garcia began talking.

"In the past two weeks, these four women—Jennifer Dayber, Candace Wilson, Felicia Davis, and Gwendolyn Seawall have been found on park benches all over Harkville, Ohio."

"Cause of death?" Rossi asked, interrupting.

Garcia turned a concerned face to the older man. "Unknown at the moment, sir. There were no visible wounds, signs of restraint, or a struggle. And it gets weirder. All four were left on these benches during the night with the same set of books around them, though each one was reading a different one."

"Which books?" Spence asked, curious.

"In all, five— _Alice in Wonderland_ ; _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_ ; _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_ ; _Wrinkle in Time;_ and _The Phantom Tollbooth_."

Rossi frowned. "Odd choice of reading material for adults."

"This Unsub's cooling off period is rapidly shrinking—this last time he killed twice in forty-eight hours. Wheels up in thirty."

* * *

"The posing of the bodies is obviously significant, as are the specific books," Prentis pointed out, still scanning the case files as the plane carried them ever closer to Harkville. "Jennifer was reading _Wrinkle in Time_ , Candace had _Alice in Wonderland_ , Felicia had _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_ , and Gwendolyn had _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_."

"What's more, the books from the previous murders were on the next victim's right, and the others on the left, like they're all working through the same pile," Amanda noted. "More than just being significant—could the books be a message of some kind?"

"That's definitely an angle that needs to be explored," Hotch admitted. "Johnson, I want you and Reid to look at that angle after you check in with ME and see what the toxicology report says. Morgan and Prentiss take the most recent crime scene, Rossi and I will start talking with families."

There was no dispute over assignments—there never was—but both Morgan and Amanda saw the momentary scowl that crossed Reid's face when Hotch paired him off with Amanda.

The newest agent tried not to frown externally. _I can't bring it up during a case, but whatever I did to offend him, I better figure it out and apologize for it fast—I didn't want to mess up the unit's dynamic._

* * *

Reid maintained his professionalism, at least, as he and Amanda made their way into the ME's office. The older woman looked up as the two FBI agents made their way inside.

"Just in time! I just got the report back." She motioned them over, pointing out a small pinprick wound at the back of the latest victim's—Gwendolyn's—neck. "All four of them had this, so I ordered a second toxicology report, looking for other compounds that might've been previously overlooked."

Reid looked up, interested. "Did you find any?"

"Yes. We were looking for more conventional poisons—man made, usually given by injection, but this time around we were widening our search and found that all of them had Saxitoxin in their system—only a small amount, but that's enough to cause paralysis and death by suffocation. We weren't looking for it, because it's mostly ingested by accident—

"By eating infected shellfish," Spence finished. "But the Unsub modified it to work via injection?"

"He wouldn't have to modify it very much," the ME admitted, "if at all. Worse still, you're conscious during the paralysis and death—they knew it was happening to them."

Amanda suppressed a shudder. "You don't have to inflict pain to torture someone." It was a simple enough observation, but delivered in the voice of someone who knew from experience.

* * *

From there, the two returned to the police office, pouring over the crime scene photos, the book list, and the histories of the four women. Garcia was also skyping them, trying to find a time or place the four intersected, but not having much luck, as the four women seemed to run in very different circles. Spence was leafing through copies of the five books, reading and absorbing at his abnormally high speed while Amanda focused on Gwendolyn's file. Though none of them said it, they all knew they were running against the clock—there was a fifth book, but no fifth victim—yet.

"She moved here from London with her parents after World War Two," Amanda muttered. "She was only six, but she would've been a survivor of the London blitz." It hadn't seemed significant at first, but then something started bugging her. "Reid—she was the one with _The_ _Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_ —yeah?" He nodded, flipping through the last few pages of _Phantom Tollbooth._ "And that starts during the blitz, right? That's why the kids go to the professor's house, right?" It'd been a long time since she'd last (and first) read it—sometime in college, at her brother's suggestion, but she remembered something about that being the case.

Reid nodded absently again, then stopped reading as his agile mind put together what Amanda was getting at. The two locked eyes as they scrambled puzzle pieces—it was a long shot, but it was too uncanny an observation to be mere coincidence. As one, they reached for the files on the other three victims.

They had a long search in front of them.

* * *

 **So, yeah. Not the case I originally thought I would write, but honestly, I think I like this one better. Tune it next week for its solution/conclusion! Also, any guesses as to what's up with Spencer (and no, it's not romantically related—I am not going to ship these two)?  
** **As always, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	10. Chapter 9

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here with the conclusion of the new case on the block (or, the case that originally wasn't wasn't). Hopefully, you enjoy!  
** **Because I am required to say it: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.**

* * *

When the other members of the BAU returned to the police station, they were caught a little off-guard by the conclusion that Amanda and Spencer had reached.

"He chooses books that they lived like?" Prentiss asked.

Amanda shook her head. "More like ones they shared a significant trait with the main character of. Jennifer's father disappeared unexpectedly when she was young, leaving her and her mom to take care of her three younger siblings. Candace was sick a lot growing up, so she spent a lot of time at home with her older sister. Felicia's family lived with both sets of grandparents with the father as the only working financial supporter, and Gwendolyn was a child during the London Blitz."

The others had to search their memories a little to catch the connections, but they accepted that if Spence said the main characters went through something similar, then they did.

"It may go deeper than that," Spence said, picking up where Amanda had left off. "In each book, the main character escapes or overcomes their starting situation by some kind of fantastical journey. The unsub may think he's helping his victims escape _into_ the books, or into a journey _like_ the books."

Rossi frowned. "Escapism taken to a dangerous extreme?" He didn't seem convinced, but Prentiss seemed more accepting of the idea.

"Isn't that why fantasy stories appeal: we like to imagine for a moment that we can go on the hero's journey with them? Forget our problems for a bit? He could think he's doing them a favor."

Hotch nodded slowly. "Which means that he had to know that these women matched these characters specifically. He either got them to open up about their lives, or had privileged access."

In the following silence, Morgan pulled out his phone, hitting a number on speed dial. "Hey, Baby Girl, we need your special brand of genius here..."

* * *

Garcia did not disappoint, her search aided by the discovery that all four women were regulars at the local library—as in multiple visits a week, checking out four or five books at a time. After that, it was a simple matter to go through the employee list and find the one that raised the right red flags—Ryan Feller, the one who usually closed up.

"He could learn a lot about them by striking up a conversation at the end of the day, when there wouldn't be any people there," Prentiss pointed out. She looked over at Spencer, who was frowning at the list of library patrons. "Something wrong, Reid?"

"Five books—four victims. The only one who goes nearly as often as the others is Meliah Forde—she comes from a wealthy background, but keeps hopping between jobs. That could be a parallel to Milo." He paused before clarifying unnecessarily: "Main character in _Tollbooth._ She normally goes on Mondays, and Ryan's scheduled to be the one closing tonight."

As one, they all looked at the clock. If they left that very moment, they just _might_ make it there in time to save Meliah. Without another word, they all bolted for the SUV's.

* * *

Rossi, Spence, and Amanda were the first ones on the scene, piling out just in item to see Meliah walking out of the library, Ryan just behind her with something small in one hand and a bulging backpack over the other shoulder. Rossi came around the driver's side, side arm drawn. "Ryan Feller, FBI!"

The man stiffened, then bolted the other direction, right for Spencer and Amanda. He'd dropped the syringe, but was desperate enough to still be dangerous. Rossi couldn't fire for fear of hitting the other two agents, and Ryan could've been trying to run away, not attack. Spence had been up front, so was ahead of Amanda slightly—right in Ryan's path.

Spencer drew his gun, aiming low—for a foot or knee, but before he could fire, Ryan had knocked the gun from his grasp, reaching back and pulling out a knife they hadn't noticed before—apparently he had a back-up plan if the toxin hadn't worked.

Reid was trying to turn so the knife-strike wouldn't hit anything vital, but Amanda had already leapt into action, grabbing the arm with the knife and wrestling for control of the weapon. She hissed in pain as Ryan managed a cut across her left bicep, but in a few seconds more she'd caused the knife to drop. Spence had already grabbed the other arm, and between the two of them, they got Ryan cuffed.

Morgan, who'd arrived with the others at this point, took Ryan, dragging him back to the police cruiser. Spencer looked over at Amanda, expression darkening as he took in the blood on her arm—blood that wasn't Ryan's. She followed his gaze, gently probing the wound. "It's not deep," she offered by way of consolation. "Might not even need stitches. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine. Thanks."

Stiffly, Reid walked away. Amanda frowned—it was like every word in that last sentence had pained him to say. This couldn't go unaddressed any longer.

What was going on with Dr. Spencer Reid?

* * *

The mood on the plane was an odd one, to say the least. On the one hand, they'd saved a life and finished a case in less than twenty-four hours. Yes, Amanda had been hurt, but the cut wasn't that bad—though it did need two stitches, contrary to her initial assessment. In that, there was an air of weary triumph.

But on the other hand, Spence had barely spoken to anyone since the confrontation in the parking lot, heading straight to one of the couches as soon as they boarded, where he lay down with his back to the rest of them. Now everyone else could tell something was wrong, but he wasn't willing to talk about it. In that, there was a heaviness in the air.

Amanda clenched her jaw, determined. She was certain that something she'd done since coming to the unit had upset the young man, so she felt it was her duty to make it as right as she could.

 _No more delays—tomorrow morning, we talk._

* * *

 **So, yeah. The case is over, but mysteries still abound. Anyone pick up on what might be bothering Spencer about Amanda? (And yes, it** _ **does**_ **have to do with her.) All I will say is the answer to that will be uncovered next time, along with another part of Amanda's past. There actually was a subtle, well, not** _ **clue**_ **exactly, but an odd observation that makes more sense when you know her story in the previous chapter. Anybody catch it?  
** **As always, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	11. Chapter 10

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here! It's a bit of a shorter chapter this time, but I'm posting two at once again, so hopefully that makes up for it. Anyway: the promised explanation and reconciliation of SSA Amanda Johnson and Dr. Spencer Reid.  
** **Because I am required to say it: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.**

* * *

By the time the plane landed back at Quantico, it was a little after midnight, and Amanda was grateful that it wasn't a very long drive back to her apartment, especially given the fact that they didn't have the next day off. But despite the fact that she wouldn't have much time to sleep that night, she still found herself pacing around her living room instead of going to bed, trying to think over her strategy for confronting Spencer the next morning.

The first time she'd noticed a change had been just before Halloween, right after the Malcolm Jones and Jason Willet case. It'd been subtle, but she'd noticed that he seemed to be at least annoyed at something. It was the Halloween party, when he'd completely ignored her, that she figured out it had something to do with her—then there was his attitude during the case, most notably at the library, where he seemed to have transitioned from annoyed to angry.

She wracked her brain, trying to think of everything that had occurred around those times that could've upset Reid, but the only thing that came to mind was the fact that she had come onto the team so soon after JJ left, and even that didn't seem likely, given his initial reaction upon her arrival. She momentarily considered cornering Morgan and asking for some insight into the young doctor, since the two seemed to be close.

Ultimately, though, she decided that her initial plan—to go for the direct approach the next morning—was the best, since asking for help felt too much like going behind her fellow agent's back. Besides, if his problem was with her, as seemed likely, then it was her job to set it right, not someone else's.

* * *

For once, Spence was a little late that morning, and unless it was her imagination, Amanda could've sworn he was avoiding her. But as determined as he seemed not to face her, she was equally adamant that the issue be resolved that day. Around lunchtime, she got her chance.

Knowing she was rarely hungry on days she hadn't gotten a lot of sleep, she'd brought a small bowl of trail mix and decided against leaving the building at lunchtime. Spence, too, had brought his own meal, but nobody else had, leaving the two agents alone at last. Taking a deep breath, Amanda left her desk and approached Reid who looked up, surprised and seemingly a little wary.

"What do you want?" he asked before she could say anything, in a tone that took her aback.

"To apologize for whatever I did to upset you. Whatever it was, that was not my intent, I promise."

Judging from the way his shoulder's tensed, her statement wasn't having the effect she'd hoped. If anything, it was angering him even more. "No, of course not," he replied, in a tone that all but screamed that _was_ the problem.

Amanda shook her head slightly, confused. "Dare I ask what it was so that I don't do it in the future?"

"You think I haven't noticed it?" Spence asked at last, his voice quiet but taut with frustration. "I thought this time, since I was actually older than you it would be different, but no—every person who joins this team automatically assumes I'm helpless."

Whatever she'd been expecting him to say—that _wasn't_ it. "I don't—" she began, but he cut her off.

"Of course it's not intentional or malicious, but that just makes it worse! Some local officer disagrees with one of my observations, and you jump in and defend it. We confront a potentially violent Unsub, and you automatically move into position to take the hit. You don't even give me a chance!"

Having said his piece, Spencer finally paused to see what sort of impact his words had had. To his surprise, the young woman he'd come to think of as nothing if not confident had seemingly deflated, her bright green eyes dropped to stare at the carpet. "Oh—I hadn't realized—didn't think," she whispered. Finally she looked up again. "You're right—you've had more experience on this team, and you're more than capable...I promise, more than half of it wasn't consciously thought or planned. I..." Her voice trailed off as her gaze dropped, this time not in shame exactly, but more like she was trying to decide how much to tell him.

In spite of his anger—which had been mostly diffused by her second apology anyway—he found himself wondering what it was she had been about to say. When Amanda raised her head again, she'd apparently made her decision. "This isn't an excuse—just an explanation. I'll make an effort to pull back now that you've pointed it out. It's just..." She took a deep breath, and finally blurted out: "I had another brother who died when he was eight, and Josh, Brandon, and I all hold ourselves partially responsible. If we'd done something more, maybe—" she shook her head, leaving that thought dangling, apparently still too raw to touch. "Since then, in any foster home we were put in, college we attended, and place we've worked, I guess we've subconsciously taken on the role of the protector—you're not the first person to point it out, either. I didn't mean to come across as patronizing."

With the new revelation, Spence felt like he'd thrown an immature tantrum, as justified as he may have been. Amanda hadn't meant to imply that he was, nor had she thought of him as helpless or under-skilled, rather, she'd considered him close enough—important enough—to defend. His gaze dropped to her left arm, where the sleeve of her shirt hid the gash and stitches she'd received the day before.

Amanda followed his gaze and apparently his thought train. "Don't feel bad about pointing it out—whatever my motivations, I need to trust and allow my fellow agents to do their jobs. In the future, if I catch myself overstepping my bounds, I'll pull back. And feel free to let me know if you notice I'm doing it again. I won't be offended."

Spence nodded, still feeling a little guilty for reasons he couldn't quite verbalize. Part of him wanted to ask about her other brother and how he'd died, but he didn't think it right to probe such an obviously painful topic after she'd been as open as she just had. "You would've been doing it for anyone else on the team, wouldn't you?"

Amanda nodded, shifting a little uncomfortably, apparently still a little embarrassed now that her tendency had been brought into the open. "In all probability, yeah. Hotch just kept giving us the same assignments."

"Well, we do work pretty well together, even during misunderstandings," Reid replied, offering the olive branch in his own way. A small, amused smile from Amanda told him it'd been received.

The others started coming back at that point, and Amanda drifted back to her desk, and Spencer noticed subtle shifts in her stance as her normal guard was reconstructed. As little as she had said about her brother, the circumstances surrounding his death had profoundly impacted Amanda Johnson.

* * *

 **So, yeah. Not the full story yet, but a bigger taste of it than we've been given in the past. I figured Spence wouldn't really take well to the 'guard dog' part of Amanda's personality, so this was one of the first chapters that came to my mind when I considered righting a fic this long featuring Amanda (the actual first chapters will be the last few before the epilogue). Anyway, next chapter going up momentarily!**

 **As always, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	12. Chapter 11

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here! Like the last case, this one required some adjustment between initial brainstorming and final product, though thankfully not nearly so much! Hopefully, you enjoy.  
** **Because I am required to say it: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.**

* * *

When the average person's phone goes off a little before five in the morning, the first emotion is usually in the range of 'annoyed'. Amanda Johnson was quickly learning that when _she_ got texted at ungodly hours of the day or night, her reaction was more along the lines of 'instantly alert', as it meant that there was yet another case that desperately needed the help of the BAU team.

* * *

"Our particular flavor of crazy at least keeps to a precise schedule," Garcia blurted out as she began the briefing. A cool-down period of exactly 48 hours between all three kills so far."

Hotch picked up the briefing as Garcia pulled up the gruesome pictures she was very carefully _not_ looking out. "The first victim, Arnold Feller, 37, was killed by a slash across the throat after being blitzed from behind. The second victim, Charlene Maydon, 48, was strangled from behind, while the third victim, Hannah Pine, 25, was killed in the same way as Arnold Feller."

Spence frowned. "He seems to be experimenting with MO, which would indicate that he was young or inexperienced, but the rigid timetable would indicate someone more organized."

"Are these victims of opportunity or specific targets?" Rossi asked. "He seems to strike across age, gender, and socio-economic divisions, at least."

"They were all killed in different places but dumped in the same plot of land," Morgan noticed. "That could indicate either opportunity or premeditated, but there's something about the site. But what was it? The reports are pretty vague."

"That, my valiant crime-fighters, is an undeveloped testament to legal limbo. The 3-square mile, somewhat-forested plot of land in the middle of Four Lights, Georgia, is currently being claimed both by a developer planning a new commercial center, and a conservationist group insisting it be preserved as-is. Apparently, there's something wrong with the paperwork, and both groups have proof of ownership." Garcia rattled off the entire spiel in a single breath, but none of the others seemed surprised—Penelope may be prone to rambling, but she knew how to deliver a lot of information at once.

Emily glanced up from the file. "Are any of the victims connected with either group?"

"As a matter of fact: yes," the technical analyst reported. "Arnold and Hannah were both outspoken investors in the development project, while Charlene ran an online blog trying to garner support for the conservationists."

There was a pause as that information sunk in. This was going to be one of _those_ cases, wasn't it?

* * *

Amanda had been paired up with Emily for once, and the two girls had interviewed George Theddal, leader of the conservationist group. The balding, heavy-set fifty-four year old looked more like one would've expected one of the developers to look like, but both women had learned long ago not to judge on appearances.

The interview didn't raise any red flags for either agent—George mourned Charlene, who he'd known well, but also the other two victims. "This is a small town that got a little bigger without changing too much—you still know most of your neighbors. And I don't hold with whoever killed Charlene, Arnold, and Hannah. They were good folks, all—we just disagreed on what was best. None of my people could do somethin' like this, we don't want nobody hurt."

By the time the unit reconvened (Morgan and Rossi having gone to the dump site while Hotch and Spence interviewed the leader of the developers), they were feeling more than a little discouraged. The message from both leaders was the same, and even the local police had noticed the debate over the land had cooled off as the town rallied around the fallen. Garcia's background check on all prominent players in the legal situation came up clean, leaving the team with little to go on. Even the site itself wasn't really remarkable—there were no species being threatened with extinction or rare plants, nor was there anything remarkable about the developers' plan for the area.

By then, it was after ten at night, and Hotch insisted they go back to the hotel for the night. "We'll start clean with the profile tomorrow morning, start over if we have to. Coming at it from a blank slate might help us see something we overlooked."

Nobody was happy with the call, but in the end, what else could they do?

* * *

"So you don't think this guy has anything to do with the dispute?" The sheriff asked, looking incredulous. "Why else would he be going after these people?"

"This type of Unsub craves control, organization, and, above all, order. When the town started turning on itself, the order he'd created or claimed started to collapse around him, and he took it out on those he saw as responsible. His kills were precise, planned, and timed on a tight schedule, and he left the bodies laid out and cleaned up. He didn't go after leaders or people in charge, but on vocal supporters, those getting their respective sides riled up and angry—"

Hotch's explanation was interrupted by the arrival of a young, frazzled deputy. "Sorry to interrupt sir," he began, and the BAU all found themselves glancing at the clock as they realized how much time had elapsed—they knew what it was before the report was finished.

"They found another body, sir."

* * *

 **So, yeah. The Unsub's motivation took a drastic change as I wrote that last scene—let's just say pretty much the opposite of what I thought, but then I looked at the clues I'd left myself and had to change it. And that wasn't even the change I eluded to at the beginning. (Man, this story is starting to write itself!)**

 **As always, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	13. Chapter 12

**Updating early this week, because the show I'm in has a Sunday matinee. So this week and next will be a little early, then back to my regular schedule!  
**

* * *

 **Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here with the conclusion of the case! As I said, this one went a little different than I'd originally intended, but I think it ended up all the better for that. What do you guys think?  
** **Because I am required to say it: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.**

* * *

 _Hotch's explanation was interrupted by the arrival of a young, frazzled deputy. "Sorry to interrupt sir," he began, and the BAU all found themselves glancing at the clock as they realized how much time had elapsed—they knew what it was before the report was finished._

" _They found another body, sir."_

* * *

 _This has got to be one of the few jobs where being proved right can be a terrible thing,_ Amanda reflected as the BAU team took in the crime scene. The latest victim, Patrick Reymont, 38, had been a vocal member of the conservationist group, and was killed by strangulation, like Charlene had been. Like the others, he was neatly laid out in a part of the disputed land where he was sure to be found.

"The number two is significant to him—central to his control mechanism," Spence observed.

Morgan noticed the confusion on the face of the deputy that'd brought them there, so began to point out the clues the profilers had noticed: "He alternates between two groups and two kill methods, every two days. In fact, it may have been the issue dividing the town into two groups that set him off in the first place."

"So, now that everyone's come together, will he stop?" the young man asked.

Amanda shook her head sadly. "He may not have been violent before, but his urge to kill may have gone too far now—the town started to calm down well before his latest kill. He may be stuck in a pattern now. If we don't catch him, he'll just keep killing."

* * *

The profile didn't seem to give much to go on, but it turned out that the fascination with the number two was enough for Garcia to find Victor Geoffrey, who was one of the clerks trying to sort out the conflicting claims—and having to deal with representatives of both groups on a daily basis. It wasn't enough for a warrant, but enough to bring him in for questioning. Hotch glanced over at Spence and Amanda. "You two, with me."

They stood, Amanda acutely aware this would be her first time paired up with Spence since their little heart-to-heart. She nodded silently at the young man, determined to keep her promise. He returned it, and the two followed their unit chief to the SUV.

* * *

Victor didn't run as Hotch approached, but it was clear that he wanted to. Wordlessly, Amanda and Spence began to drift to opposite sides, ready to cut off any escape attempts.

It was a good thing, too, because as soon as Hotch asked Victor to accompany them to the police station, the man's courage broke, and he turned to run. Spence moved in position to block him as Amanda came up from behind him and helped restrain the struggling man. Working in concert, the two firmly escorted the suspect to the SUV without incident.

* * *

The two watched from behind the one-way mirror as Hotch and Rossi interviewed Victor, waiting for him to crack. Amanda pointed to Victor's left hand, which was tapping out a two-beat rhythm with index and middle finger. "He's nervous, trying to stay calm."

Spence nodded, having noticed it as well. "Not long now."

* * *

On the plane ride home, Rossi paused by Amanda's seat. "Not sleeping?" He asked.

"Tried—sometimes I can't on the plane. Figured I'd at least be productive," the young woman explained, looking up from her laptop as the older agent sat across from her.

"Doing what—if I may ask."

Amanda shrugged and smiled. "Nothing too big—just planning the menu and grocery list for the next week or so. There's a recipe or two I've been meaning to make for a while, but they're a bit time-intensive, and we've been busy. I think I can try at least one, though..."

"Ah, a budding explorer of the culinary arts, then?" Rossi asked, interested by the conversation turning to one of his favorite hobbies.

"For a few years now, yeah. Just after the academy, I realized I had maybe five dishes that I really knew how to make so I decided to experiment and explore. Some meals go better than others, but I've been improving, at least," Amanda answered.

The older agent nodded, regarding the young woman in front of him with a look that could've been almost pride. "Have you tried to make any classic Italian dishes?"

"Some, but I don't know if they'd live up to you standards," Amanda laughed, having heard the stories of Rossi's culinary lessons.

"Well, let me know if you want to learn—I may have to organize another lesson soon."

"Was that an offer or a threat?" Amanda asked, her green eyes sparking with a teasing light as the older man laughed quietly, neither wanting to disturb the sleeping forms around them.

* * *

 **So, yeah. A shorter chapter this time, but I'm still trying to kick a sinus infection this week before school kicks into high gear. Hopefully, next week will be better!  
** **As always, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	14. Chapter 13

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here! Here we have yet another break from cases focusing on the BAU-Family dynamic. Hopefully you enjoy!  
** **Because I am required to say it: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.**

* * *

"...No, no I understand. Joseph, you need to be with your family right now. ...Joseph, she's your _grandmother_. Spend some time with her—one last Thanksgiving." Amanda paused, listening as her boyfriend's protests grew less and less strong. "Don't worry about me—I'll figure something out."

A few minutes later, Amanda felt confident she'd convinced him to spend Thanksgiving with his family—and especially his ailing grandmother, with whom she knew he was extremely close. They'd planned to go to his family's house together, as she'd met his parents before and made a good impression on them, but with the new family health emergency, their plans had changed.

Was she disappointed? Undoubtedly. But there would be Thanksgivings they shared in the future, and he needed to be with his family right now. Like she told him, she'd figure something out.

 _I've got most of this week—plenty of time._

* * *

Penelope Garcia was a wonder at what she did, and sometimes, in that, was scary. It was a truth taken without question that it was a very good thing that she took a protective, possessive care over the other members of their unit—because with what she could learn about them, the alternative didn't bear picturing.

"You're going to be on your _own_ for Thanksgiving?"

Amanda stared in slight shock at the other woman—but she'd at least learned it was useless to ask Garcia how she'd found out. "Well, yeah; I guess. Some plans fell through, but it's alright."

Garcia shook her head, as if the two ideas didn't go together, when Spence interjected from his desk. "What's wrong with one person for Thanksgiving?" The implication that such an arrangement was normal for him was not lost on the technical analyst, who looked even more horrified.

"Baby girl," Morgan put in, "Most of us would have to travel to get to family, and with Christmas less than a month away, we save our leave time."

"But-but— _alone?_ " Garcia turned to Prentiss who shrugged.

"I try to get together with local friends normally, but we couldn't get schedules together this year. Happens sometimes."

Penelope grew more adamant. "No. No. Not this year—this will not happen. We had a Halloween party, why not a family Thanksgiving?" A thought struck her and she brightened. "A potluck!" she cried, missing the horrified expression that crossed the face of Dr. Reid. She scanned the group, who seemed a little taken aback, but more or less on board, before turning and determinedly marching up towards the offices of their bosses.

Amanda smiled as she returned her focus to her paperwork. Hotch and Rossi had no idea the storm that was about to break upon them. Still, it sounded like a much better plan than trying to figure out how to scale down the traditional dishes to single servings for a solo meal.

* * *

Penelope, being the wonder that she was, not only got Hotch and Rossi on board, but convinced Dave to host the get together (he'd therefore insisted upon then being the one responsible for the main dish, which no one was going to dispute).

On Tuesday, their last day of work before the holidays, Amanda was cornered by a nervous looking Spencer. "You cook—right?"

"Yeah, I got into it out of necessity, but I like it." She paused, before asking, "I'm guessing you don't much?"

He shrugged. "One person, not often home for mealtimes, never really bothered to learn." He glanced around before asking, "What do I do about this party?"

Amanda smiled a little to herself. Brandon, the younger of her two older brothers, had reacted much the same way that someone told him _he_ should try to cook a meal for his girlfriend—barely controlled panic. "Did Garcia ask you to bring a side or a salad?" the young woman asked, herself being given one of the dessert assignments after Garcia heard about her pecan pie.

"Side. I could've done a salad, but Emily signed up for that first," Spence grumbled.

Amanda held up a finger, running down what she knew the others were bringing. "Garcia and I are doing dessert, Rossi's taking care of the turkey, Emily's got salad, Hotch volunteered to do mashed potatoes and Morgan..." Why couldn't she remember?

"Something about green bean casserole, and JJ's bringing stuffing and cranberry sauce," Spence offered, now calming down since it was clear Amanda was going to help him. Perhaps there was an advantage to her protective nature.

"So, we've got a lot of traditional fare, as well as most basic food groups covered...so you could do something traditional or something unique. Which would you prefer?"

"Something easy," he answered without hesitation.

Amanda nodded, frowning thoughtfully. "Tell you what—I have a few recipes saved from when I was still learning to cook, and some of them made a lot, so perfect for a potluck. I'll send them to you with a bit of my added commentary for the trickier parts—not that there's many of those—and you can pick one for yourself. Sound good?"

Spence nodded, relieved, and the two parted, Amanda already mentally running down the list of her easiest beginner dishes.

 _We don't want a repeat of Brandon's Zucchini Disaster, after all._

* * *

Amanda barely survived her Wednesday-before-Thanksgiving-shopping-trip (a venture now listed with 'Black Friday Shopping' on her list of things she never wanted to attempt again) and found herself that Thursday morning preparing her pecan pie while the Macys' Parade played in the other room. As a child, she'd rarely gotten the chance to watch it all the way through, and even now, as an adult, she enjoyed the feel and spectacle of it—even if she didn't know who half the artists or special guests were. (Actually, that made it all the more fun when she _did_ recognize them.)

The pie itself wasn't difficult—in fact, it was the first thing she'd ever really learned to cook after moving out on her own. She'd been volunteering in the kitchen at some event her church was putting on, when Miss Ada Meyers—an Alabama girl who was married to a retired Air Force colonel but never forgot her southern roots—pulled her aside, asking for some help with the pie. Miss Ada had dismissed the common perception of a pecan pie as 'a custard pie with a floating layer of pecans' and insisted that the custard be there only as a glue to hold all the pecans together as they filled the pie crust.

The younger woman had been a little surprised—normally Miss Ada was as quiet, kind, and soft-spoken as anyone you could've hoped to meet, but Amanda had learned that day that certain things, if not done right, could elicit a half-joking (but still half-serious) lecture from the woman who became a mentor/mother figure to her in her years in college and just before the academy. (For instance, Amanda learned that day to _never_ pronounce it as PEE-can again, but rather, peh-CAHN: "A PEE-can is a chamber pot where I'm from, and I don't want it anywhere near our pies.")

Even now, all these miles, years, and life events from that day, the memory still surfaced every time Amanda used Miss Ada's recipe, and made her smile, if not outright chuckle. She also remembered all the holidays spent with Miss Ada and her husband Mr. Pete, who opened their home to anyone who couldn't be with their own family during that time of year. They were wonderful, once-in-a-lifetime people that Amanda still kept in contact with, and wished she had met much, much earlier in her life.

 _Still, I shouldn't be greedy—the five years I had with them is more than some people ever get._

* * *

The parade finished before the pies did (she was making two, since families were invited as well, and she knew some attending had big appetites), so that was the year Amanda discovered that there was a dog show that apparently came on after the parade. But soon, her contribution to the table was finished and she was on her way to Rossi's.

* * *

Dave was the one to greet her at the door as she stood, pies in hand. "Now I know why Garcia got you to host," Amanda remarked as Dave took one of the desserts from her and led her into the kitchen.

"She just wanted an excuse to assign me to the turkey," Rossi countered as they set the pecan treats next to Garcia's Pumpkin pies.

Amanda laughed. "More power to you—I don't know if I could handle the pressure of the main dish."

By now, they were in the living room with the others, who had overheard her last comment, and Morgan put his two cents in. "I don't know, Ninja. I still say dessert's the most important part, so has the most pressure with it."

"Pies are _easy,_ " Amanda retorted. "Thanksgiving's the only holiday that I dare to volunteer for dessert." She glanced around, noting Spence a yet arrived. She hoped that whatever dish he'd chosen to make wasn't giving him too much trouble, and she _really_ hoped that the recipes she'd loaned him had been clear enough.

Almost as soon as the thought crossed her mind, the doorbell rang again, heralding the final arrival. Dave went to let the young doctor in, and when Spence finally appeared in the living room with the rest of them, he paused by the youngest agent. "Thanks," he whispered, "I went with the cheese rolls, and it all worked out...I think."

"Good. Isn't pre-made dough a fantastic shortcut? That's my go-to potluck dish at Christmas time."

Further conversation was then cut off by Rossi insisting everyone make their way into the dining room and let the meal begin. Amanda and Spence had to very quickly move out of the way as Jack and Henry tore past them, pursued by their respective fathers trying to keep the energetic young boys in check.

Amanda smiled. Though different from the Thanksgivings spent at the Meyers home, with her brothers, or even the one she'd imagined having with Joseph this year, it was still undeniably a family atmosphere.

 _And that's what makes it special._

* * *

 **So yeah. A little more of her recent backstory, with a very special cameo: Ada and Pete are based exclusively on my parents, including my mother's opinion on the proper making of pecan pie and the pronunciation of 'pecan'. I hadn't originally intended for them to make this appearance, but then I realized that, unlike me who grew up with making these pies, Amanda would've learned it much later on, so someone had to teach her. Who better than the woman who taught me?  
** **As always, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	15. Chapter 14

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here! Fluff break over, now we're back to a case that probably merits the rating, and might be a little hard to keep it under. So if it feels like I'm skirting some things, let's just say I'm erring on the side of caution.  
** **Because I am required to say it: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.**

* * *

Whoever believes that the 'Christmas Spirit' automatically makes people perfect, charitable, and peaceful never worked a job that put them in direct contact and conflict with human nature.

That was what was running through Amanda Johnson's mind when Hotch informed the BAU team that they would be working with another FBI unit to bust a case they'd been working on for about a year—taking down a human trafficking ring that operated mainly within the DelMarVa area.

Amanda hadn't been a part of the team the last time a co-op like this had taken place, but she'd heard the story.

 _What a way to start the advent season._

* * *

The other unit head was relatively young and inexperienced, compared to Hotch and Rossi, but at least knew enough to give the BAU all information previously collected for them to build a profile before planning how to proceed.

That wasn't to say the younger man was particularly patient, but the team put more effort into being long-suffering, since he was concerned about the victims and wanted the ring shut down as soon as possible. However, even when being charitable, they had their limits, and it was to everyone's surprise that Rossi reached his first, taking the other unit chief's arm and firmly escorting him out of the room, speaking in an admirably level voice, but in a tone of voice that, while too low for the others to overhear, clearly communicated his message: "Just give us a little more time, and we will have what we need to help you."

* * *

"The preliminary profile is nearly complete. What we're working on now is figuring out the victim profile based on the ID's you were able to get," Hoch explained, having been the one to escort the other man out of the room this time, and figuring he could at least give him an update.

The other Unit chief hesitated, clearly confused. "But I thought you guys just profiled the Unsubs. Why would you need to profile the victims?"

Hotch tried not to sigh—he'd had to answer _that_ question quite often. "What we can't tell about the Unsub from the information on him you were able to provide we can figure out from looking at who he chose and how and where they were abducted."

"Oh, that makes a lot of sense actually. Once you figure that out, maybe a sting operation—"

"No," Hotch broke in quickly, before taking a breath. "That's unnecessarily risky—I know from previous experience how badly stings can go. We'll be able to give you enough information for a basic stake-out." To his relief, the other man agreed, and Hotch returned to his work, still remembering the last time the BAU had helped bust a human trafficking ring.

 _That agent was lucky we got there when we did—we nearly lost her._

He wasn't about to let it happen again.

* * *

True to Hotch's word, the team soon had the information for the sting: the head of the ring targeted college-aged kids, mainly girls but some boys, who were loners and either struggling or discontented. That on its own might not have been useful, but the breakthrough had occurred when Amanda noticed that all victims they'd been able to get ID's on had been fond of walking several trails in the area, often alone, whenever they needed to calm down. After that, Spence had worked out a time line, noticing how often the Unsub struck and his pattern for what trails he frequented, and from there, it was simple to know when and where he'd strike next.

The stakeout was on!

* * *

 **So, yeah. Maybe not the best case idea, seeing how much I had to skirt around, but if I'm honest, the problem was I didn't plan this one out that much and I'm not the sort who improvises well in the moment. Fear not—later cases have much more thought put behind them and their profiles.  
** **As always, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improv eon for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	16. Chapter 15

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here! For those of you who thought the last case was over, I don't blame you, based on how I actually ended the chapter, but no—we'll be wrapping it up here in a moment,** _ **then**_ **moving on. Sorry for the confusion.  
** **Because I am required to say it: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.**

* * *

Because of the high stakes of the case, and because it was, after all, a collaborative case, the BAU didn't just pass along the information, but were a part of the stakeout as well. Hotch and Emily were one of the pairs stationed along the trail, Morgan and Spence were waiting at the finish, and Rossi and Amanda were waiting in the parking lot at the start, and all were on edge.

As they got into position, Amanda glanced over to see Rossi's unasked question in his eyes: Was she going to be alright?

Amanda was confused—Rossi wasn't prone to smothering, but occasionally (well, twice so far) if he thought a case hit too close, he'd check to see if she could handle it—and that provided her answer: Of course, why wouldn't she be? After all, this went nowhere near anything she'd identified as a trigger.

The exchanged happened without a single spoken word—indeed, most of the stakeout was passed in silence, unless they were reporting that the Unsub had yet to show. That was, until Hotch radioed with a different message: "We've got him, and a potential victim. She's alright though, and we've got him cuffed."

A barely-audible sigh of relief was heard from every one of the waiting teams as they converged on Hotch and Prentiss's location. Now, it would be up to the other unit to interrogate the Unsub and find his subordinates and the people he'd taken.

* * *

Even when a case didn't trigger anything—and there hadn't been one that _did_ , yet—even when a case ended well, Amanda and the other members of the BAU usually left work wanting nothing more than to spend some time with someone or something that reminded them that there was more to the world than the darker parts of human nature they had to interact with so regularly.

That was why Amanda was more than grateful that the weekend was case-free, allowing her follow through on her plans with Joseph. Not that they had any kind of special plans, but that was more than simply alright, that was just what she needed. That Saturday, after their usual run and lunch, they spent the day wandering through Old Town Alexandria—beyond a shadow of a doubt, Amanda's favorite city. Rather than grabbing dinner at one of the restaurants near the waterfront (which were quite expensive, given that neither agent was all that high up on the pay scale), they drove back to Joseph's apartment—it was his turn to cook.

Amanda sat on one of the stools at the counter that looked into his kitchen, watching. Sometimes they cooked together, but other times, like that day, Joseph insisted she sit back and relax. Amanda took in the odd spread of ingredients, trying to guess what the meal could be before she gave in and asked her boyfriend: "So, what will be having tonight?"

"Breakfast for dinner!" came his response, which made her smile. As mature as their jobs required them to be, both had a childish side that they liked to indulge around each other. Joseph continued describing the meal: "Found this recipe online: Pumpkin-Ricotta Pancakes, with an Apple-Raisin Compote on top. For protein, I figured bacon would work the best. Besides, when in doubt: bacon."

Amanda laughed at their inside joke. "Couldn't have said it better myself."

* * *

The following Monday—the last week before their time off for the holidays—was thankfully, quiet, and filled with paperwork. They didn't even have a consultation, though Hotch promised there'd be one the next day, he was still getting the files. The end result was that the team had quite a bit of free time that afternoon, which in general is a good thing, though can be... _interesting_ when you work with a bunch of profilers.

Emily casually leaned against Amanda's desk, checking to make sure the guys were well out of hearing range. She'd been picking up on certain clues for a few weeks now, but wanted to confirm her suspicion in relatively privacy first.

"So, what's his name?"

Amanda glanced up. "What is this—high school? You don't have to dance around this. Yes, I have a boyfriend, Joseph Madison."

Prentiss shrugged. So much for the careful approach. "I think I've heard his name before..."

"Probably, he's stationed here, too. We met in the academy," Amanda answered, still barely glancing up from her work.

"So this has been going on for a while, then?"

Amanda chuckled a little, "Longer than I've been working here, certainly. So I guess it's time I get grilled for all the details?"

Emily forced a shocked and offended expression. "Certainly not—I wouldn't do such a thing!" Then she began to chuckle as she added, "At least, not without Garcia present. Tell you what, She, JJ and I are going to meet up for a Girls-Night-Out/Christmas Shopping trip this weekend. You can come to, and when get all the juicy stories then."

"I don't want to intrude," the younger woman started, but her friend was having none of that.

"You aren't intruding if it's an invitation. Or, if an order would make you feel better: come."

At that point, Amanda agreed, still not completely certain what she was getting herself in for.

* * *

 **So, yeah. I'd meant that last scene to be longer, but I wanted to save some of it for the next chapter, and my boss's boss just scheduled an early-morning team-bonding exercise, so my writing time was unexpectedly shortened, when I still had some homework needed to finish, so this chapter had to be shortened as well. Hopefully, the coming weeks make up for it, as we are about to get into the part of this story I was** _ **really**_ **excited to write!  
** **As always, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	17. Chapter 16

**Hey guys, sorry for the delay, I forgot to announce that, as usual, I was taking the month of December off of regular posting. I was actually afraid I wouldn't be able to post today, either, because I got sick yesterday, but fortunately, I'm better now AND it's a two-chapter week for this story!**

* * *

 **Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here with the next chapter. It's another case, but a different set-up than normal, so hopefully you guys like the change of pace. Also, because I love you, and it's that time again, you'll be getting** _ **two**_ **chapters this week!  
** **Because I am required to say it: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.**

* * *

Amanda grimaced at the figure in the mirror—someone she barely recognized in the short, black dress, high heels, long dangling earrings, with brown-and-auburn hair painstakingly curled and pinned back.

"Seriously, who goes speed dating on a Thursday evening?" Amanda asked Prentiss, who'd come up behind her to help zip up the dress and fasten the necklace that matched the earrings the other agent never would've picked for herself.

"Maybe they're taking tomorrow off for travel, to spend more time with their families during the holidays?" the dark-haired woman suggested. "I've never been one much for this scene myself, so I can't honestly say for sure."

Amanda was far from pacified. "I can't blame you—it makes no sense. Like two minutes is enough time to figure out if this is someone you want to see again. Joseph and I were friends for more than a year before either of us dared to ask for a date."

Emily didn't make a reply beyond a non-committal noise as he turned her friend around, inspecting the make-up she'd helped to apply before nodding approvingly. "You're ready. Let's get this over with."

* * *

The two agents emerged to where the rest of their team waited, and Amanda noted that Hotch looked about as happy with the set up as she was—which was to say, not very. He did his best to avoid a sting tactic whenever possible, but in this case, it'd been deemed necessary, and Amanda fit the victimology a lot better than Emily did.

Mentally shifting her focus from her frowning boss and from Morgan's light, half-forced teasing (which wasn't even registering at this point), Amanda began to review the character she'd be playing in an attempt to bait their Unsub. After all, it wasn't like she could give _honest_ answers to the questions she was going to be asked:

" _And what are you looking for tonight?"_

" _Oh, you know: a power-reassurance rapist that's using this service to find and prey on insecure and desperate women because he himself is so insecure that he can't even show his face. The usual."_

Yeah, that would go over real well.

* * *

 _Garcia was just wrapping up the briefing on what would be their last case before the holidays—and after which they'd be sure to need one. "So, besides the obvious physical resemblance and somewhat-timid personality, there was_ _one_ _other link I could find: a day or two before each attack, each woman attended an event run by_ Quick Love Speed Dating Service. _"_

" _That's quite the hunting ground if this is the type he goes for," Morgan noted. "I suppose you've gotten their list of members and regular attendees and narrowed it down, Baby Girl?"_

" _Oh, how I wish I did! But their record keeping is abysmal and they allow drop-ins, which are never recorded however often they come. I'll keep going through the few records they_ have _kept, but that's going to be an incomplete picture at best. My technical genius can't be your main tactic this time, I'm afraid."_

* * *

Amanda's mind came back to the present just as Hotch was giving her some final instructions.

"Your necklace is bugged so that we can hear what you're hearing, but in the end, we're relying on your instincts to narrow it down. Get us some likely names, and Garcia will dive in and look for probable cause on a warrant. You are not to confront this guy until then."

"Yes sir," Amanda replied, not having intended to take matters into her own hands anyway—she may have been protective of those close to her, but she didn't have a hero complex.

Hotch still didn't seem happy with the set up, but he stood aside and let that evening's sting proceed.

* * *

The advantage of the speed-dating set-up was that Amanda didn't have to lie to any one person for longer than two minutes. Most of the guys seemed nice enough, if a little nervous, but there were three that Amanda noted as possible unsubs: Nathaniel Hale (Yes, that was his _real_ name, his parents were history buffs), who kept tapping his leg and never met her eyes, but whose hand kept inching towards her on the table top; Zachary Wilson, whose smarmy and chauvinist persona was pretty obviously forced and covering for a lack of confidence; and, finally, Peter Greene. She couldn't say why she put Peter on the list exactly, on the surface he seemed nice enough, and not even particularly nervous, but there was something about him that unsettled her and put all her instincts on high alert.

After those three had gone by, no one else stood out as likely, and Amanda's mind split onto two levels as the night continued: part of her playing the part still, interacting with the men sitting across from her in two-minute bursts, while another part of her mind was already composing the report she'd give the rest of the team, the reasons she'd give for fingering each man as a potential suspect.

Finally, it was over, and she could leave.

* * *

Of course, assumptions like 'it was finally over' are opportunities—mainly, to be proven wrong. Amanda wasn't even to her car before she found out just how far from over the evening was.

She was just pulling out her keys hen an arm clamped across her throat, and a man's voice just by her ear could be heard muttering, "This time, I'll get it right."

 _So, I was right about Peter Greene._

The thought crossed her mind as her body spring into an action Amanda had begun to refer to as 'trained panic'—a deep, real sense of fear that shut down almost all rational thought, but couldn't quite make her forget the combat training that'd been drilled into her at the academy.

Thankful for the first time that her dress was as short as it was and heels as sharp as they were, Amanda shifted her weight and kicked backwards at the target sure to have the most effect. Peter released his grip, doubling over, and Amanda pulled away, wishing she had her gun on her, but since the pattern had given them time between initial contact and attack, they hadn't tried to hide it on her.

However, by then her team was already arriving, and they _did_ have their guns and handcuffs, and they weren't happy with the man who'd attacked their newest team member. Trying to lighten the mood a little, after Peter was led away to one of the SUV's they'd had stashed nearby, Amanda turned to Hotch, "In my defense, it was not my intention to confront him alone."

Hotch only gave a half-grimace that could've been an attempt at smiling, and the younger agent had to admit there really wasn't anything funny about the situation.

* * *

 **So, yeah. I wanted to try to play around with different ways of writing about cases, and different approaches to cases. We get that in the show, too—with occasional episodes that vary in format from the standard, and I wanted to capture that feeling. Anyhow, extended fluff break coming up—starting in just a moment!**

 **As always, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	18. Chapter 17

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here with part 1 of our 'Christmas Break' for this story. (I'm going to ignore the fact that it is January as I am currently writing this and focus on the fact that it is cold enough to snow to get me in the mood.)  
** **Because I am required to say it: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.**

* * *

True to Emily's word/threat from earlier that week, that Saturday morning, Amanda found herself not in the company of Joseph, but that of the older agent, Penelope Garcia, and the woman that Amanda had only met once, talked briefly with, and still felt vaguely uncomfortable at the thought of—JJ.

After all, though the team certainly didn't hold it against her any more, she'd essentially been hired because Strauss wanted Hotch to replace JJ.

Apparently, the blonde didn't feel the same way. After greeting Garcia and Emily, showing them the newest pictures of her little man, Henry, she turned to Amanda, catching the other woman off-guard in a hug, before pulling back and asking with a teasing grin, "So, Amanda, you taking care of my team for me?"

"Doing my best," she replied.

"And we're looking after her, too," Emily put in, swooping in and buying her friend time to relax a bit.

Fortunately, she did soon enough, and the day promised to be a fun time of talking, relaxing, and shopping. Oh, yeah...there was _one_ other item on the itinerary, thanks to Prentiss.

"Okay, now spill—Who is this Joseph and how did you guys meet?"

The other two perked up at the subject of prying into romance, and Amanda gave a lopsided grin as she realized there'd be no getting out of this. Besides, there was a part of her that liked the idea of bragging on her boyfriend.

"Well, we weren't a couple until more than a year after graduation, but it all started at the Academy..."

* * *

The story carried them all the way to the first store, where they started discussing Christmas plans. Garcia quickly whirled on Amanda. "Please tell me you're spending Christmas with your boyfriend and not _on your own_."

Amanda held up her hands defensively. "Actually, Joseph and I decided to spend this Christmas with our families, and spend some time together afterwards. I haven't seen Brandon in a year and I haven't seen Jason since last March when his son Joshua was born; and Joseph's grandmother just passed away, so we thought it best he be with his family right now. As soon as we're back from our trips though, we are having our own little 'second Christmas'."

Garcia was apparently satisfied, and Amanda turned her attention to finding gifts for the family members she'd be seeing in just two days. For Jason, she found an illustrated version of his favorite GK Chesterton novel, 'The Ball and the Cross', while for his wife, Brianna, Amanda found the new cookbook from Brianna's favorite TV chef (She'd asked her brother only last week what Brianna was looking for and what he was planning to get her so that there'd be no accidental overlap), at JJ's suggestion, she got her nephew a stuffed animal that not even a 10-month-old could destroy ('educational toys next year, for now, Mom and Dad will want something to keep him happy and quiet,'), and her other brother, Brandon would be getting a full-cast audiobook version of his favorite fictional trilogy.

Emily glanced over at her friend's purchase. "Lots of books," she observed, leaving the question unasked.

Amanda shrugged, glancing away. "Growing up, we struggled with school a bit, and everyone told us we weren't going to amount to much if our grades stayed so bad since we were foster kids. But now, Jason's got his Masters of Divinity and is a preacher, I graduated college _and_ the FBI academy, and Brandon owns and runs his own carpentry business. It was getting better at reading that turned it around for us, so we all have a love of books, even Brandon, who we think is probably dyslexic."

Emily didn't reply, but as she watched the younger agent complete her purchase, she couldn't help but think that Amanda's childhood was harder than would be inferred from the occasional glimpses the team had gotten.

* * *

Each having found gifts for the various family members, the girls all agreed to take a break for lunch. Amanda glanced around, getting her bearings, and smiled.

"Trust me, I know a great little café near hear that Joseph and I go to almost every week." The others perked up at this endorsement, and Amanda led them to the promised establishment, which, as she knew it would, lived up to her promises.

Naturally, after all had ordered, Amanda had to recount the story of how she had first found this place—and how it was the site of her first true date with Joseph long afterward. Garcia practically squealed about how cute that was, and the other two teased her a bit, though all in good fun. Amanda was beginning to realize not only how much fun a 'girls day out' could be, but also just what she'd been missing out on, not having a core group of female friends for a long time.

* * *

There were only two gifts left to get after lunch—JJ's gift for Will, and Amanda's for Joseph. JJ was the luckier, as Will had pretty much told her what to get him, but the other woman was not so fortunate. Immediately, her friends set about peppering her with suggestions.

"Does he have a favorite cologne?"

"You could always do books again."

"What are some of his hobbies?"

"Are you _sure_ there haven't been hints?"

A silent pleading look from Amanda eventually stemmed the flow, and a moment's more concentration resulted in a decision: a particular set of kitchen utensils and tools he'd mentioned getting after the new year. At the incredulous looks the other women gave her, Amanda had to smile. "What? He cooks—it's one of the things we do together."

JJ shook her head slowly, muttering, "Lucky," under her breath.

* * *

 **So, yeah. If you couldn't guess: Christmas, next chapter, as well as meeting Amanda's brothers for the first time. Funny story, I had originally intended this to be the first time that Amanda met JJ, then I realized that JJ was in the Halloween chapter, and while not specifically mentioned, would have been at the Thanksgiving party as well, so I went the 'new girl still feels awkward' route.  
** **As always: if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time: don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	19. Chapter 18

**Sorry about the delay folks. I have no other excuse than, after a long drive Saturday, I completely forgot about fanfiction yesterday. Fortunately, School is closed today, so I have time to post this!  
**

* * *

 **Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here! This well out-of-season Christmas treat contains our first real glimpse at Amanda's family and the dynamic. (For those wondering, yes, Jason and Brandon are her biological brothers; all three aged out of the foster system without being adopted, and they managed to say in contact. More on that story in later chapters.)  
** **Because I am required to say it: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.**

* * *

Alone in her apartment the next day, Amanda was hurriedly packing the last few items for her flight out to Ohio to see her family. Well, maybe 'hurriedly' wasn't the right word. She might not have been taking her time, but the carols she was singing along with the radio were slowing her down a little, not that she minded. For one thing, she was mostly packed already. For another, Amanda _loved_ Christmas, and had since her earliest childhood memories—Christmas was something that couldn't be taken away or squelched.

A knock on her apartment door interrupted her impromptu, private concert. Turning off the radio, she opened the door and was surprised to see Joseph standing in the hall. He smiled at her, pulling a wrapped package from behind his back.

"I'm on my way to the airport," he explained, "but I wanted to stop by to wish you Merry Christmas and give you this."

The couldn't talk for long, given their respective flights, but they did manage to exchange their gifts and have a few precious moments together before they had to part ways, at least for a little bit. If there was one thing their FBI careers had taught them, it was to not take any time they had together for granted.

* * *

The flight was uneventful, and while Amanda had too much time alone with her own thoughts (a dangerous prospect for anyone prone to introspection), she was nevertheless mostly caught up in her excitement at the prospect of seeing her family again. Given that all three siblings lived in different states, it wasn't often they were all together, so the times they did have were treasured.

Once she arrived at the airport, she quickly spotted Jason waiting for her, and she ran to him, shedding the role of the FBI agent and slipping easily back into that of a little sister as the two siblings hugged, then pulled back, taking in what they could about the other as they checked in to make sure the other was as alright as they claimed. Of course, now being a trained profiler, Amanda had the advantage in that, but soon their mutual excitement returned as they made their way to the baggage claim.

"Did Brandon make it in alright?" Amanda asked, knowing their other brother had been on an earlier flight.

Jason nodded, finally getting his little sister to relinquish her hold on her carry-on bag but leaving her the laptop bag he knew she wouldn't let him carry for her. "Yeah, for once his flight wasn't delayed. He's back at the house with Brianna and Joshua."

"And how is the little man?"

Amanda smiled as her brother laughed. "Do I get the impression you're really here to see Josh and not me?"

"Hey, I'm his aunt!" she protested. "It's in my job description to spoil the kid rotten. I'll have you know I fully intend to be the 'cool aunt'. Besides, once the kid is born, the parents are no longer the center of their own universe—that's the way of the world, Jase."

"Ain't that the truth," Jason admitted without a single trace of bitterness. Amanda thought it was adorable how smitten her brother was with his family—contrary to what many had expected of him, the young man was not just a skilled pastor but a wonderful husband and father. It gave Amanda hope for her own future, honestly, and she knew Brandon felt the same: their older brother was living proof that their past neither defined nor limited them.

* * *

Since Jason was the preacher for the kid's Christmas Eve Service (rather than the later one that would have Joshua up far too late for a ten-month-old), the two siblings met up with rest of the family at Joshua's church that afternoon. To Amanda's delight, even the children's service involved a candlelit portion (her favorite Christmas Eve service tradition), and afterward, the whole group returned to Jason's home for a casual Christmas Eve dinner.

Brandon and Amanda, after their initial time catching up, spent most of the ride back and wait for dinner playing with or holding Joshua. It'd taken the ten-month-old some time to warm up to the strangers, but as if picking up on his parents' delight at seeing them, he began giggling and smiling at the antics of his aunt and uncle. In fact, it became a sort of contest between the younger two siblings to get a bigger smile out of their nephew, but even during that, they managed to keep playing 'catch up'.

"So, you're still with that Joseph character you've been telling us about? He treating you well?" The tone was teasing, but Amanda knew there was genuine protectiveness behind the question, and she laughed to put her brother at ease.

"Yes, to both questions. And what about you and Marianne—have you proposed to her yet?"

Brandon mumbled something, flustered, as she expected, and she continued with the half-teasing, half-serious conversation. "We all know how serious you are about her. Just ask her already!"

Whatever reply the carpenter would've given was preempted by their older brother's contribution from the kitchen: "You really should stop beating about the bush!"

The younger two glanced at each other for a moment before collapsing in a fit of laughter that confused little Joshua. Apparently some things, like their older brother's tendency to eavesdrop, never changed.

* * *

Later that night, after Joshua had gone to sleep for the night, the adults sat in the apartment's living room, wine in hand, and continued trading stories.

Jason had plenty of funny ones, mostly surrounding the antics of the children that attended his church, and Brandon could recount several tales about certain customers that were as amusing as they had been frustrating. Amanda, on the other hand, spent more of her time talking about her team's downtime antics than anything they did on the job.

Even with the self-censorship, she could tell that her brothers were uncomfortable. Finally, as the conversation hit another awkward lag, Amanda looked at Brandon, who'd be easier to crack, and simply raised an eyebrow.

Over the years, despite often living in separate foster homes, they'd developed the ability to communicate certain things without words. Brandon sighed, before leaning forward towards his 'baby sister'. "Look, Amanda, we're happy for you, really. You really seem to have found a place where you feel you fit in and are doing something good. And it sounds like you have a good team. It's just—"

"The same old Academy question?" Amanda asked quietly, now understanding. All three siblings fell silent, remembering the one really bad fight they'd had—when Amanda had been accepted into the FBI Academy and revealed that she was intending to take the chance. "I'm being safe, I promise. My team—we watch each other's backs." Even as she reassured them, it took effort not to reach for the still-fading scar she'd received protecting Spence, and she knew that telling them about the last case's resolution really wouldn't reassure them—since she _had_ almost been attacked by a serial rapist.

Brianna, bless her, though she hadn't been involved in the argument, knew enough about it to know what was going through all three siblings minds and jumped in to change the subject. "Well, having a good team is important, let me tell you. Our VBS crew this summer was practically an improv team, all the last-minute catastrophes they had to adjust to..."

Jason took his wife's cue, and the two narrated the misadventures of a most eventful week. As the conversation moved on, Amanda caught her sister-in-law's eye, and the two women had their own, silent exchange.

 _Thank you._

 _Don't mention it._

* * *

Given their background, the Johnson siblings didn't have cherished Christmas traditions dating back to their childhood, but once celebrating Christmas all together became an annual certainty instead of a maybe-maybe-not game, they'd begun some. One, Amanda had contributed after being told about it by her older friends, Ada and Pete Meyers. It was called 'blessing bread' and was, along with a candlelit Christmas Eve service, her favorite Christmas traditions.

How it worked was every member of the family took a slice of bread, then went to every other member of the family, prayed a blessing over them for the coming year, and gave them a piece of the bread. After all had been prayed for, the adults sat down for breakfast and coffee, joking about one last Christmas before Joshua would be clamoring for presents. Finally, after a leisurely morning, the present exchange began. Amanda, for her part, tried to draw out the few days she had with her brothers as long as possible, knowing that it might be another whole year before she saw them again.

* * *

Once Amanda returned to Quantico, she and Joseph had a few days together, celebrating their own 'after-Christmas', exchanging family stories from their respective reunions, and just enjoying the fact that they could spend time together without having to be doing something.

The morning of the second day, was interrupted by a text from Garcia.

Joseph looked over as his girlfriend's face fell. "Case?" he asked calmly, having come to recognize that expression in the last few months. At her nod, he stood and offered her hand. "Then you better hurry and go save someone," he said, letting her know that he was okay—as a fellow FBI agent, he understood. He kissed her lightly right before she left, whispering, "Be safe."

* * *

 **So, yeah. A bit of a different feel for this chapter, plus we actually get to see Jason, Brandon, and the bonus family members—Brianna and little Joshua! Actual inspiration for the events of this chapter comes from a lot of the different states I've lived in, my own family's traditions, and the characters themselves. Hopefully, you enjoyed!  
** **As always, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	20. Chapter 19

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here! We're starting to kick the story into high gear here; now we're in the section I feel more confident in, and we'll start peeling back layers of Amanda's character and background. I'm not promising answer right away, but you will definitely get more, clearer clues!  
** **Because I am required to say it: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.**

* * *

Amanda was the last one into the conference room, flushing a little as she took her seat, but Hotch made no comment, merely nodding for a visibly upset Garcia to start the briefing.

"I am sorry to interrupt your holiday fun, my valiant crime-fighters, but we have quite the bad doozy in Farretville, New York. Three rape victims have been left in the past week, all unconscious after being beaten and brutally raped and all were..." Garcia trialed off before managing to rally and finish: "...all were left completely naked in public areas."

Amanda felt her stomach settle heavily, churning a little. This was going to be one of _those_ cases—wasn't it?

 _There are reasons I couldn't tell my brothers the details of what I've been doing for the last few months..._

* * *

On the plane, just as Hotch was giving them the assignments, and they talked over the details and plan for the case, Garcia called them with the bad news.

"So, Farretville PD just got in touch—our first victim succumbed to injuries in the hospital two hours ago without ever regaining consciousness. She was Natalie Remmon, the 27-year-old school teacher. Victims two and three, Georgia and Haley, the blogger and the waitress, are still unconscious."

Hotch's grim expression reflected the general atmosphere of the plane. "Keep us posted if anything changes."

"Will do, sir; Garcia—out!" the screen went black, and Amanda had to consciously unclench her fist. As if the unsub hadn't already stolen so much from the girls, he was wrenching away the last of their dignity, and even their lives.

* * *

Amanda and Reid had been dispatched to the second disposal site—a bench in a local park. The two agents silently scanned the area, trying to get inside the Unsub's head and figure out why this was the dump site for Georgia Reynolds.

Amanda gazed over the back of the bench, at the wooded area of the park, when Spence tapped her on the shoulder, nodding something over on the left. "I know the park's closed off, but skate parks are getting popular with younger and younger kids, right?"

Amanda nodded, the churning in her stomach getting worse as the implications of that sunk in. If that was the key part of the profile, this case had just gotten more and more twisted.

* * *

When the two youngest agents met back up with the rest of their team, their observation was doubly and triply confirmed: all three sites were related to children—a popular ice-cream shop, the skate park, and near a playground of a local school.

"It's obviously a message," Morgan pointed out at the risk of stating the obvious. "But what? What's the connection between these women and the kids?"

"He's leaving them alive," Spence noted. "Is he hoping to become a father himself?"

Amanda shook her head. "That's a desire more typical of a power-reassurance rapist, but this guy is far too sadistic for that. It feels..." she trialed off, not sure of how to phrase what her gut was telling her.

Rossi glanced over as he spoke, as if asking if they had been thinking the same thing. "It feels almost like a shot at the town—trying to steal the kids' innocence by leaving his naked and bloodied victims in places they usually go."

"That could be it," Prentiss conceded. "But I still feel like we're missing something crucial..."

Before anyone could reply, one of the local officers poked his head in. "Just got word from the hospital—Georgia Reynolds is waking up."

* * *

 **So, yeah. A bit on the lack-luster side, but the part I'm excited for picks up at the end of the next chapter, some things that Amanda wants to say, based on the case. After that, her character development will accelerate a bit.  
** **As Always, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/Improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	21. Chapter 20

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here! It's time to wrap up this case and get to know our newest FBI agent just a little bit better. Hopefully, you're as excited for that as I am!  
** **Because I am required to say it: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.**

* * *

 _Rossi glanced over as he spoke, as if asking if they had been thinking the same thing. "It feels almost like a shot at the town—trying to steal the kids' innocence by leaving his naked and bloodied victims in places they usually go."_

" _That could be it," Prentiss conceded. "But I still feel like we're missing something crucial..."_

 _Before anyone could reply, one of the local officers poked his head in. "Just got word from the hospital—Georgia Reynolds is waking up."_

* * *

Hotch dispatched Rossi and Amanda to the hospital, to see what they could learn from Georgia Reynolds, and Amanda hoped to learn something that might fill in the gap in the profile that all felt was there, though no one could say exactly what that was.

Georgia seemed dazed and sleepy when they first entered her hospital room, and Amanda found herself dreading what their interview was about to do to the peaceful contentment of one who didn't remember the hell they'd been through.

"Georgia Reynolds? I'm SA David Rossi, I'm with the FBI. This is SSA Amanda Johnson. We'd like to ask you a few questions about what happened to you earlier this week..."

At first, Dave's words were only met with a confused expression, but soon the monitor indicated a rising heart rate as the young blogger's expression melted into one of terror and anguish. "No! Oh God no-no-no-no—those mosnters! Keep them away from me," she began to ramble as the two agents tried to step forward, trying to calm the woman who wasn't listening any more. "They're animals! God, keep those two mosnters away from me, please!"

As she grew more upset and began to thrash around, a team of doctors rushed in to sedate her, one sparing just enough time to firmly escort the two investigators out of the room. Though no words were said, the message was clear: they'd be learning nothing more from Georgia that day. Still, it hadn't been completely a bust...

" _Two_ monsters," Amanda repeated, looking over at her supervising agent who nodded in agreement.

They had the missing piece of the profile.

* * *

"We now know that these attacks are the work of a dominate-submissive partnership," Hotch reported as the team delivered the profile to the room of assembled officers, "with the abduction and disposal handled by the submissive partner and the torture and assault carried out by the dominate."

Rossi now took up the thread. "For the most part, this team functions much like partnerships that kill their victims, though the whole point seems to be the assault itself, or perhaps the submissive takes it upon himself to remove and dispose of the victims before the more dominate partner kills them. This could be remorse, but is more likely done out of fear."

"Now," Morgan broke in, getting to the heart of the unique part of this profile, "given that all dump sites are associated with children, we believe that the submissive partner sees himself as a child whose innocence has been stolen by the actions of a dominate partner. Given this and the reluctance and fear demonstrated in the actions, we believe the submissive partner is the son of the dominate partner, with his fear and loyalty to his father outweighing his own conscience and fear of the law."

They went on, describing the likely personality traits and history of both partners, but Amanda half-wondered how many officers were still trying to process such a family dynamic and were missing the following information. She couldn't really blame those who'd never faced a case like this before...

* * *

"Okay, I have made the really depressing search for father/son pairs steeped in tragedy and abuse the likes of which you described with a stressor occurring two weeks ago, and I found the following, extremely messed up fraction of a family: Greg Kleeman and his son Frank. Frank's mother was in and out of the hospital, always claiming she had had an 'accident' of some variety or other. She died when Frank was eight, and while his hospital visits were rarer, the injuries were worse. Fast-forward ten years to two weeks ago, and Greg was diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma, which is causing his kidneys to start failing. He was given a few months to live," Garcia reported, sounding a little out of breath.

Rossi leaned towards the phone that Morgan held so everyone could hear. "And I assume this Greg Kleeman had been accused of improper sexual behaviour before his marriage?"

"And after," Garcia reported sadly, "All generally revolving around some kind of physical attack as well."

Hotch nodded decisively. "Let's bring them in for questioning."

* * *

When Frank Kleeman—who was barely eighteen—saw the squad cars and black SUV's pulling up to the house, he panicked. Fortunately, his variety of panic was of the 'crack and admit everything' variety instead of the 'go down shooting' variety, and the BAU felt confident the Farretville Police could take care of the rest of the case now that both UnSubs were in custody.

* * *

The plane back to Quantico had a decidedly solemn air. It was Prentiss who broke the silence. "I'm not saying Frank wasn't responsible for his own actions," she qualified, "but given the house he grew up in and how often he was exposed to his dad's actions without any other adult influence, how much of a chance do you honestly think he had?"

Spence and Morgan frowned, as if thinking about what kind of man Frank could've grown up to be with a different parental influence. Amanda, however, provided a dissenting voice.

"He wasn't kept isolated at home—he went to school, to friend's houses; he had a social life, and he was old enough to understand what he was doing when he helped his father abduct and torture those women. Just because you grow up around sick people and twisted deeds, it doesn't doom you to be just like them."

Even as she spoke, she felt Rossi giving her a significant look, but she didn't turn around to face him. He knew her story; he knew her reasoning and experience that had led her to such a conclusion. In fact, he'd had a hand in shaping that philosophy himself.

* * *

 **So, yeah. I know I've been hinting at the fact that Rossi knows Amanda better than anyone else at the BAU, and now I've confirmed a previous encounter between them. Details of this encounter will not come quickly, but they will come. Until then, speculate away! (Aren't I terrible person?)  
** **As always, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	22. Chapter 21

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here! True to pattern, we have a two-chapter break before the next case, but I can promise we will learn a little bit more about Amanda's family in these two chapters, so you have that to look forward to, I promise. (Though when you discover why it's two chapters instead of one, you may hate me. I did warn you!)  
** **Because I am required to say it: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.**

* * *

"You're sure they won't mind me coming as well?" Joseph asked from the living room while his girlfriend was gathering up the last few items for her purse. How she could get so scattered less than two days after coming back from a case was a little beyond him, but he figured it had something to do with keeping some of the stuff in her go-bag and having to remember to swap them in and out.

Amanda was able to multitask enough to call down the short hallway, "I'm sure. In fact, when Emily was inviting us all over for New Years, she was pretty insistent that I bring you. Okay, that's it—I'm ready."

Joseph stood as she made her way back into the living room, and tried for a joke. "Just what did you tell them about me—pardon me for being a bit nervous just before I meet your highly protective team of profiling coworkers."

"Have you forgotten I've known you longer than them?" Amanda asked, her green eyes sparking with humor. At least, until she noticed the concern in his. "Joseph, what's wrong?"

"Nothing!" he answered quickly, before continuing in a more sincere tone. "Nothing—I promise. I was wondering how this week was going to be for you." As soon as he said it, he regretted it, as he saw some of the light leave her face. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up..."

Amanda shook her head. "No, it's alright, you were just worried. And honestly, I don't know how I'm going to be later; but for now, I'm happy, and about to ring in the New Year with good friends and the man I love, so for now, I'm good."

With that, she took his hand and they made their way out of the apartment, Joseph wishing there was something he could do to keep her this happy, this content, forever.

* * *

When they arrived, the others were just having their pre-dinner drinks (with Sprite for Henry and Jack) and everyone was joking around with each other, relaxing and enjoying the company in Prentiss's apartment—which few but Hotch had seen before.

As the young couple entered, Prentiss was the first to greet them. "So, this is Joseph, then? I'm Emily, and I should warn you, you're about to be swamped in 3...2...1..."

Just as the countdown finished, Garcia barreled around the corner, Morgan and JJ in tow. "So, this is the young man who thinks he's good enough for our Amanda? I should warn you, if you break her heart, you will have the wrath of a technical analyst to deal with..." Without ever breaking her stride or pausing her speech, Garcia grabbed Joseph by the arm and dragged him back to the living room, where the others were presumably waiting.

The taller FBI agent glanced back at his girlfriend for a second, silently begging for help, but she only gave him a small smile and shrug.

 _Sorry, but it's best to get it over with all at once._

* * *

Fortunately, Joseph passed 'inspection' and by the time all sat down to dinner (that Rossi had apparently prepared and brought), he was welcomed as one of the group in much the same way Will was, and Amanda wondered if the acceptance had been made easier by the fact that Joseph was a fellow FBI agent, or maybe it was how long they'd been together.

Whatever it was, she was glad, but not surprised, at how well he fit in with the group. As they all sat down, she found herself splitting her attention between a discussion she was having with Garcia and Prentiss about cats, and the conversation between Joseph, Rossi, and Morgan about Joseph's unit and experiences in the Bureau.

A part of Amanda marveled over how the team would want to spend so much time together outside of work, given how involved and exhausting their cases were, but she speculated the answer could be found in the description of the picture formed by the group at the table—a family dinner. They were a family, and she knew better than most that was not a title to be given lightly or taken for granted. She was lucky, she thought, just as her hand brushed Joseph's for a fraction of a moment, and the two glanced at each other and smiled.

 _Lucky indeed._

* * *

The rest of the evening passed pretty quickly. After dinner, they'd played a few games with the kids, who were then settled down for bed—neither family being particularly eager to deal with over-tired young ones who'd tried to stay up until midnight. There were a few more games after that until finally, drinks in hand, all found themselves in the living room, watching the countdown on TV.

"...3...2...1...Happy New Year!"

Will and JJ, sitting to one side of the group, leaned in for the traditional kiss, and as Amanda and Joseph, who were standing towards the back of the room, leaned in to do the same, she felt the grinning eyes of some of her teammates on her back—likely Morgan and Penelope.

 _Yeah, we really are a family—complete with older siblings who love to tease and annoy the younger ones._

* * *

 **So, yeah. A little bit of a shorter chapter this time, but I didn't think there'd be too much to gain by stretching out the New Year's celebration. And for those of you wondering what Joseph was worried about in the beginning, I promise some answers next week!  
** **As always, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	23. Chapter 22

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here. This is another two-chapter week, so hopefully that makes up for last week's shorter installment. As promised, this particular chapter includes an answer to some questions raised last time.  
** **Because I am required to say it: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.**

* * *

Three days later, on Wednesday, Amanda had a much harder time than normal getting herself together and out the door. She wasn't really tired, per se, she just felt...heavier, like she was wading through thick, sticky fog.

It was unpleasant, and would make work hard that day, even if it was just paperwork, but she wasn't surprised. Still, in years past, it had been even worse. Maybe she could pretend like everything was normal—everything was alright.

* * *

At first, all they had was paperwork, and Amanda was able to force herself to keep up with her normal pace, but at the cost of her normal interactions. Normally, she'd banter with Morgan or Prentiss, or pause to listen to one of Reid's rambles, but that day it was clear to all her coworkers that something was bothering their newest teammate, and it took all her concentration just to get her paperwork done.

Derek glanced over at Amanda, then Emily, who subtly returned his gaze and gestured to herself. She would talk to Amanda, first, to see what was up.

It actually took the other woman some time to corner the younger agent, but finally, she managed it. "Hey, are you alright? Is everything okay?"

"It is now, I'm just a little out of it today. I'll be fine in a bit—I promise."

Without any further words, Amanda slipped away, back to her desk, and Emily got the message loud and clear: whatever was going on, their young friend did _not_ want to talk about.

* * *

Spence had noticed Amanda's distraction at the same time as the others, but as the master of internalization and not telling others when something was wrong, he hesitated to push the other agent to talk about something she was trying to ignore. Still, as someone who knew first-hand how damaging holding something in and trying to face it alone could be, he felt almost obligated to try.

By lunch time, Amanda was a document or so behind, so didn't leave with the others, and Reid purposefully lingered, hoping she would discuss in isolation what she wouldn't in front of the others. She noticed, and seemed to be avoiding his questioning, concerned gaze.

Finally, he simply blurted out, "Is it something we can help with?" There was no point in asking if everything was alright, as it clearly wasn't.

"No," Amanda answered honestly, quietly. "I'm sorry I'm a little out of it today. It's just..." she took a deep breath, before apparently deciding to tell the simple truth. "January 3rd—that's the day that Jamie died."

Spence paused, hesitating press further, but he was beginning to form a picture. "Jamie—your younger brother?"

Amanda nodded. "It's been almost nineteen years now, but I still can't forget...I was the one who found him."

She glanced away as Spence stayed silent, processing her revelations. She wasn't sure why she had told him as much as she had—maybe it was because there was a part of her who saw the young doctor as the sort of person Jamie would've been, had he had the chance to grow up. As she did turn away, she caught the eye of Rossi, who was glancing at her out the window of his office.

He knew what this day was to her—why it was so hard for her—and she knew the simple question he was asking. In answer, she shook her head. She could get through today, she _would_. Her past was behind her, all she could change was the future.

Whatever might have come of the encounter, it was cut off as Hotch came striding by. "Good, you two haven't left yet. Morgan and Prentiss are on their way back—we have a case."

* * *

"Today's flavor of crazy hails from West Peak, Indiana. In the past two weeks, three bizarre scenes have been discovered. Just before Christmas, local police found the body of Helen Feere, apparently killed by smoke inhalation. Five days later, Tabitha Roy was discovered, seemingly having been mauled by some kind of large animal, and two days ago, Bridget Holly was found, poisoned."

Morgan frowned at Garcia's report. "Those are some pretty different MO's. Are there any connections besides all being found at locations around the city?"

Garcia nodded. "I did call them bizarre scenes, didn't I? Helen Feere was dressed in rags, covered in soot, had glass shards embedded in bare feet, and was surrounded by pumpkin guts and dead rats. Tabitha was dressed in a red jacket that her sister swears she didn't own and wouldn't have bought for herself, and there was a basket of various breads and pastries about a foot away. And the last victim, Bridget, was laid out peacefully, but whoever posed her had put a tiara on her and a rose under her crossed hands—one finger also looked to have been stabbed repeatedly."

"So we have Cinderella, Little Red Riding Hood and Sleeping Beauty?" Amanda summarized.

"That does seem to have been the intended impression," Garcia affirmed, clearly shaken. "It will be a while before I can look at those stories the same way again."

Before Spence could launch into a ramble about the dark nature of the original fairy tales, Hotch stood. "The cool-off time between kills is shrinking rapidly, the West Peak police have asked for our help. Wheels up in thirty."

* * *

Amanda took her seat on the plane, reviewing the case file on her tablet as the others made their way aboard. Spence took the seat across from her, asking in a low voice, "Are you going to be alright?"

She didn't answer right away, and seemed to be asking herself the same thing before she finally replied. "I think so. Honestly, having an actual case might be the best thing for having me focus—the paperwork certainly wasn't doing it."

Reid nodded, accepting her honesty, but he couldn't shake a bad feeling about this case...

* * *

 **So, yeah. Not an entirely case-free fluff chapter, but I have plans for this case, so I wanted them to get underway. Also, I wanted to show how she would react to a case coming right on the heels of her little admission. More hints at Rossi having played a significant role in her past (which likely proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that it is a painful one), and we get to know a little bit more about her family—her brother's name was Jamie, and she was the one who found him (if you ever think I'm cruel to you guys, never forget I am worse to my characters).  
** **Anyway, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	24. Chapter 23

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here with this week's second chapter! By the end, you'll understand why I decided to move some chapters around so that this case was broken up instead of all being posted at once—and you will hate me. You have been warned!  
** **Because I am required to say it: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.**

* * *

"Well, they were all killed in very different ways, but that's stating the obvious," the ME admitted, her dark hair pulled back in a severe ponytail, but a contrasting gentle expression of concern on her face. "The one thing that was consistent—all three had been blitzed from behind and held, bound, for roughly twenty-four hours before they were killed."

Spence looked up from his notes at theat. "Any sign of sexual abuse?"

The ME shook her head. "No, but clear signs of torture. He beat them, but there's more... The glass in Helen's feet? That was embedded one shard at a time while she was still alive, and there are signs he made her walk on it."

Amanda winced, but the other woman wasn't done. "Tabitha had poison oak and ivy rashes all over her body in addition to the other wounds, and Bridget was covered in spider bites and webs. He meant the torture to be psychologically scarring as well as painful."

As the two FBI agents emerged into the afternoon sunlight, Amanda thought over what the three women had endured. "So, on top of standard rage-induced beatings, we have twisted versions of Cinderella's slippers, the flowers that Red Riding Hood left the path to pick, and the cobwebs that would've formed in a castle after a hundred years. I hate it when sick and twisted people get creative."

Spence nodded absently, also reviewing what they had learned. "The profile's clearing up a little, though—we have a sadist who's getting off on pain and fear, but no assault. Could be impotent, could just care about the terror he's inflicting. The fairytales only seem to drive the torture and staging, not the victim choice, since none of the victims looked like the traditional impressions of the characters he patterned them after."

"Maybe not the Disney version," Amanda corrected, "but I think something about them had to make him think of a particular story, since as soon as he has them he starts the specific torture, instead of waiting to think of which fairy tale to use."

"True," Dr. Reid conceded, before asking the question both were wondering. "So how does he connect them?"

Before she could answer, Reid's phone rang and pulling it out to Hotch was the one calling, he put it on speaker. "Amanda just sent the ME's report, you should be getting it soon."

"We did," came their boss's voice. "You guys are the closest to Tabitha's apartment. I want you two to take a look around, see if you can figure out why she was targeted. Morgan and I will check out Helen's, and Rossi and Prentiss are taking Bridget's."

"Understood," Amanda answered, pulling up the address on her tablet as she did so. "We're just ten minutes or so from the apartment. We'll call you on our way back to the station."

Reid hung up, and the two headed to where they'd parked the SUV, still discussing the developing profile.

* * *

To see where a person lived is to get a glimpse into _how_ they lived, and their most private spaces reveal their deepest truths and identities. Thus it was in hoping to learn more about Tabitha Roy that Spencer and Amanda went to the apartment she'd rented for the past four years and went through it carefully. It was also why, in this place that had been the quiet painter's personal retreat and place of solitude, that they found themselves speaking in lowered voices.

"Tabitha spent a lot of time alone," Amanda noted, also glancing at the interview notes the others had sent her, "but her friends say she was the sort of person who would stop and talk to anybody, always had a pleasant word and a friendly smile. I wonder if that's how the unsub grabbed her..."

Reid frowned thoughtfully. "At the very least, it's probably the reason he chose her. That does sound like Little Red."

"In that part, yes, but otherwise, no. She was very careful when it came to rules and followed instructions exactly. She also tended to hyper-focus rather than get distracted, unless it was one of those conversations in the street," Amanda pointed out.

"So our unsub sees one thing about his victim that suggests a character, and he goes after them?"

"Maybe, or they could be victims of opportunity. We don't know if the other two had any chance resemblances to the character..." Amanda muttered, glancing back at the interviews for the other friends and family.

Catching her glance, Spence asked, "Anything jump out?"

Amanda kept frowning. "There are so many versions of each tale, it's hard to know for sure," she mused, and began talking through the other two to test her theory. "Bridget was a gardener and won prizes for her roses, but that could've easily suggested other tales—Beauty and the Beast comes to mind, for me."

"But Sleeping Beauty's real name is generally acknowledged as 'Briar Rose'," Spence pointed out.

"True," the other agent admitted. "As for Helen...well, the association there may be more abstract, but she comes from a poorer background, but got a full-ride academic scholarship to the University of Indiana, graduated with honors, made it through law school, and is one of the most prestigious and well-paid lawyers in the area."

It was Spence's turn to frown, now. "Was Cinderella noted for being exceptionally intelligent?"

Amanda's grin was somewhere between a smirk and a grimace. "Not really. In my personal opinion, nobody in a fairytale is, but that's just me. No, my point is that there are two names for a story like Helen's: Rags-to-Riches or..."

"...or Cinderella Story," Spence finished, finally catching her meaning.

Amanda nodded, a part of her marveling at how well they worked together, once they'd moved past the initial misunderstandings. A little respect and openness went a long way...

* * *

They were perfect.

He watched them from his SUV, parked a few cars from their own. When he'd heard the FBI were in town because of his masterpieces, he was flattered and curious. He wanted to see these agents, so he'd driven past the station as inconspicuously as he could. He hadn't intended to find inspiration there, but then, he never could control when it struck. But strike it did when he saw them, and he had to follow them from the station to the ME's to Little Red's cottage.

It was stupid, he knew—FBI agents would be more prepared, better fighters than his usual canvasses, but these two were _perfect_. It would be—be a _crime_ if he didn't listen to his muse now! This would be his greatest work yet, his most daring, his most beautiful. He could already picture the end result, and once he had these two, he knew just how he'd begin the work.

Ah, but to get them—that was the first difficulty. He waited near Little Red's door, knowing they had to come out sooner or later. He had his first tool—his trusty pipe—in hand, ready to swing. If he took the girl first, he might be able to threaten her and force the boy to come willingly. Of course, that was if he didn't manage to take out both before they could react—that was always preferable.

In the end, it worked just as well as he could have hoped—two swings and they were down. He got the girl on the downward swing, on the back of her head, and the boy in the face as he swung back up and the lanky one turned. Of course, it was always better if he could've left the face undamaged to start with, but still, it had gone well, and they hadn't even had time to shout.

He grinned at them, now that he had them in his car. He'd taken the precaution of putting duct tape around their wrists and ankles, as well as over their mouths, but he knew that he had plenty of time to get them back to his workshop before they woke up, so he took this time to savor the fun he knew was coming, and the final masterpiece he would create.

Yes, they were _perfect_.

* * *

 **So, yeah. Spencer and Amanda are captured and in the hands of probably my most twisted unsub to date. Is there much pain and fear in the immediate future for them? Oh, yes. Will you have to wait a week to find out just what happens to them? Most definitely! Am I officially evil now? You shouldn't have to ask...**

 **Anyway, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	25. Chapter 24

**Trigger warning: this chapter deals with torture and contains some strong language.**

* * *

 **Hello everybody; ModernDayBard here! Sorry about that last cliff hanger—well, not really. I just couldn't resist leaving you guys hanging like that, but at least I didn't take an extended break from posting! ...Something tells me you guys still hate me anyway.  
** **Because I am required to say it: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.**

* * *

The first thing Amanda Johnson was aware of as she came to was the throbbing pain from the back of her head. She lay still, keeping her eyes closed, and tried to fight down a wave of nausea brought on by the head wound. She was lying on something cold and rough—an unfinished basement floor?—with her hands cuffed roughly behind her and her ankles secured together with something—probably duct tape. There was nothing over her mouth, so whoever tied her up wasn't worried about her screaming.

 _Spencer!_

The sudden memory that she had not been alone when she was last conscious was what prompted Amanda to open her eyes and try to sit up, looking for her fellow agent. The effort made her head swim and her vision go foggy for a second, but when she could start to make out shapes in the near-dark room, she saw the slumped form of the young doctor beside her, bound in a similar fashion.

The relief that followed seeing him start to move—meaning he was alive—unfortunately let in a wave of other sensations: the smell of the room, of dust and cement and blood, the chill of the place cutting through her blouse, and the stifling silence except for her breathing and her partner's. It was too much like another room, one that held too much suffering for her, even in memory, and Amanda felt herself start to hyperventilate.

 _No—not now! Have to...Have to get away..._

Spencer groaned a little as he sat up, both of them leaning against the wall they'd been thrown against, staring across the small room at the rough wooden staircase that led to the door they couldn't quite make out in the gloom. The sound broke through Amanda's flashback, helping to ground her in the present—which didn't necessarily promise to be any easier or more pleasant than the past—as she took in the state of her fellow agent. He'd obviously been struck across the face with whatever had hit her on the back of the head, as the dried blood around his nose testified, but more worrying that the moment was the look in his eyes.

Amanda knew it well—she saw it often after one of her (mercifully rare, now) episodes, if she happened to see her reflection in the mirror: barely contained panic. She could see in his eyes, and knew he could see in hers, that the hell-on-earth situation they now found themselves in was sadly not a new experience for either of them.

Before she could ask if he was with her in the present or lost in a flashback of his own, a voice from the far corner of the room called over: "Ah, good. You're awake."

Both agents jumped, having missed the lurking shape in the gloom, but now the tall figure stepped forward, flicking on a single, exposed bulb in the center of the room, causing both to squint instinctively. "I was afraid you'd sleep forever and we'd never get to begin our little fun." He strode toward them as he talked, and Amanda mentally sized him up—not quite six feet tall but pretty close with a hefty build, black hair just starting to grey, and the disconcerting light of a delighted sadist in his dark blue eyes. By the time he finished, he was looming over them, and it took all of her practice not to flinch when he crouched down and leaned in.

"And that would have been such a shame, because you two will be my best picture yet. Oh, I've never done two at once before, but I can see it now. And who'd want to sleep through that?"

"What are—?" Spence began to ask, but he was stopped as the Unsub struck him a savage back-hand blow to the face, causing Reid's head to whip sideways and slam painfully into the wall.

"Don't talk!" the man roared standing back up. Abruptly, he switched back to a calm tone of voice. "Talking ruins the whole experience. Screaming will be okay, Hansel, once we get underway, but words? No, the point of pictures is to tell a story _without_ words."

Before either could respond—or even decide if that was the wisest move at the moment—the man suddenly turned on his heel and made his way up the stairs, calling down to them: "Now you just sit tight and I'll get things ready. We'll get started right away."

The door slammed, they heard a thick bolt slide into place, and a sick silence descended as both processed what had just happened.

 _Hansel... Hansel and Gretel?_

* * *

Amanda waited as long as she dared to speak—wanting to be sure their captor wasn't lingering by the door, listening, but knowing he was likely to return any minute. Also, the longer she stayed silent, the longer she heard...other things.

" _No ma'am—please don't! We'll be good, I promise!"_

" _You're hurting him!"_

" _Shut up, you brats! This is for your own good!"_

" _Don't leave me alone down here! Please! I'll be good, ma'am! Jason? Brandon? Mandy? Help me!"_

Amanda shook herself forcefully, knowing she could only suppress that memory, not escape it. To keep her mind on the present, she focused on her fellow agent. "Spence?" she asked at last, keeping her voice low. "Are you alright?"

"For the moment," came his reply, and there was a taut tremor in his voice, barely noticeable, but she noticed it, because it matched her own. "You?"

She took a deep breath, trying to silence the child's voice screaming in the back of her mind. "Same."

Silence fell a bit, as neither knew what to say and both fought to keep inner demons within. It was Spence who decided first to change his tactics in that. "I—this isn't the first time I've been captured, but that almost makes it worse. The last time..." he shuddered, but went on. "...the last time, he had me for three days. By the end, I was hooked on Dialudid, and it took me a long time to get clean. If that happens again..."

If it happened like that again, his career might be permanently over, Amanda knew. To reassure him, she reminded him, "Hey, I called Hotch right before we left the apartment—he knows we're supposed to be at the station and we already have a lot for the profile. They'll find this guy, and they'll find us."

" _Mandy!"_

The last, piercing echo of years gone by was so loud in her mind, so full of agony, fear, and desperation that Amanda physically winced, prompting Spence's worried question. "Are you alright? Your head wound—is it hurting again?"

"No." Well, okay, it _was_ , but that wasn't the reason. "I—Well, you aren't the only one who's dealing with flashbacks right now," she admitted, no longer able to meet her partner's eyes. "My brothers and I—a long time ago, now..."

Before she could tell the story she'd told only maybe four or five times after the whole hellish time was over, the door slammed open and their captor made his way back down the stairs, footfalls much heavier this time, as he was loaded down with the instruments of the coming torture.

In one hand, he held a variety of pokers and what looked like crudely made brands, in the other, wood, paper, and a lighter. Amanda had a sick feeling she knew what was coming, and couldn't help but pressing herself a little more into the wall she was sitting against.

Sure enough, the Unsub ignored them at first, concentrating on lighting a fire in the middle of the rough room. Sadly, he seemed to know what he was doing, because he soon had a steady blaze, and there was nothing in the area around it that could allow it to spread.

For a moment, he let it alone, turning to them. He grabbed Spence first, dragging the agents a few feet apart, and securing a loop of chain neither had noticed before around the doctor's hand cuffs, making sure the other end was securely bolted to the wall, before returning to Amanda, breaking his methodical silence at last. "Sorry, Gretel, only have one of those, but at least we have a little space to ourselves. Your brother's going to have to wait his turn, I suppose."

So she was the first target, then. Amanda tried to focus on her anger more than her fear, since anger would mobilize her, fear only paralyze her, but bound as she was, neither was going to help her escape in that moment.

Rough hands grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her away from the wall and slamming her onto the cement floor. By the time she got her breath back and blinked the spots from her eyes, the Unsub was already in the process of removing her shirt. She bucked, trying to throw him off of her, or hit him with something, anything, but one large hand wrapped around her throat and slammed her head against the floor twice—three times, leaving her dazed and half-conscious.

Spence was pulling, twisting his wrists, trying to get out of his cuffs, watching with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Remembering the Unsub's reaction when he'd tried to speak before, he hoped to get the man's attention away from his temporarily-helpless partner by shouting: "Hey, leave her alone! Get off of her!" But his time he was ignored as the sadist focused on his 'Gretel'.

Spence watched as the man stood, having removed Amanda's shirt, and crossed to his collection of irons and brands, selecting one and thrusting it into the fire. Spence almost choked as he realized now what Amanda had guessed when she saw the implements. Memories of a cabin and three different voices coming from one mouth threatened to wash over him, and he forced himself to focus on Amanda's limp form, trying to see if she was still breathing, at least.

She was rolled onto one side, her back to him, giving him a good view of the blood matting in the hair on the back of her head—dried from her original wound, fresh from this last assault, but what was worse was what he could now see all over her back:

Scars. Not one or two, but a map of years, decades-old torture: burn scars, cuts, some raised, most faded, but clearly agonizing when first inflicted. He'd seen too many fresh versions of the old wounds he could see now, and his mind worked too well, filling in the gaps of the beatings, burnings, and other attacks she would've had to have endured to wind up with a back that looked like _that_.

The mottled testament to pain covered the whole back, even extending down the upper part of her arms, causing Spence to realize he'd never seen her wear short sleeves. He couldn't imagine who had done this to her, or why. As old as they were, she would've been a child at the time, and he couldn't help wonder if it was in some way connected to her youngest brother's death.

Their captor came back into view, now holding a red-hot poker, which he laid carefully, almost gently on Amanda's collarbone. Spence winced at the smell of burning flesh and the whimper of pain that the younger agent couldn't quite suppress in her half-conscious state. The Unsub stood, frowning in confusion and disappointment, and Spence knew he'd been expecting an agonized scream. But Amanda's scars were a testament to prior torture, during which she'd probably learned that screaming made it worse. She'd be doing everything possible to hold it in now.

The poker went back into the fire, and when it was withdrawn once more, it was laid across her lower abdomen and held there longer, and Amanda tensed, the pain apparently bringing her back to consciousness, this time not letting even a moan escape.

Spence kept trying to get out of his cuffs, as the torture kept repeating itself, as the Unsub grew more and more frustrated and desperate, seeking more and more painful targets, holding the poker their longer and longer, but still Amanda wouldn't scream. Reid's wrists were rubbed raw, but he was no closer to escape as the tormentor finally threw the poker across the room in frustration and began viciously and repeatedly kicking the prone figure of the FBI agent.

"Scream, damn it! Why can't you just scream, bitch? You're ruining it!" With a final wordless, frustrated shout, he drove his foot into her stomach one more time before stalking back up the stairs and slamming the door and bolt back into place.

Amanda's back was again to Spencer, so he couldn't see most of the damage inflicted, but he could tell from the ragged movements as she breathed that even simply lying there and trying to breathe was agonizing for her.

 _He_ wanted to scream—this was an agent who'd taken a knife to the arm trying to protect him as a partner and friend, and when she came under attack, what had he been able to do?

Absolutely nothing.

* * *

" _Mandy?"_

" _This is bad—he's never hit Mandy before, only us."_

" _Mandy?"_

" _Why her? She hasn't done anything wrong!"_

" _Mandy, wake up!"_

" _None of us has, Brandon. Not Mandy, not Jamie, not you, not me."_

" _Please, Mandy!"_

" _But she's never had him punish Mandy before—why now?"_

"Amanda?"

That last voice had been older, and it pulled her wandering mind back to the present, even as the pain she felt made it clear that no, it wasn't the phantom agony of years long-past, but a burning, searing pain that she'd face in the present and memory both. She groaned, not quiet being able to form words, but wanting to let her partner know she was at least conscious—not that she was particularly happy about that.

"Oh, God. Amanda, are you—"

"Feeling like crap but thinking straight at least," she cut him off, still not turning over to face him. She'd need to gather up her strength for that—a few minutes more. Besides, the chill raking cruel claws across fresh wounds was an inescapable reminder that her torso was still bare but for her bra, which didn't cover nearly as much as she wanted it to in this situation. Her voice was taut with pain, she knew, and she could hear in her tone her old defenses against feeling terrified and helpless were back: biting sarcasm and lingering anger.

Spencer, who'd never met Amanda when she was at her most vulnerable times, was a little taken aback at her seething bluntness (for lack of a better term), but granted that it made sense under the circumstances and didn't comment on it. "Can you move?" he asked, receiving loud and clear that she wanted to concentrate on the crappy present and things that could be affected rather than the recent past that couldn't be changed.

"I—I think so," she replied after a long pause, and Spence noticed her working at the cuffs, and suddenly, one hand was free! "In fact..."

"Why didn't you do that before?" Spence burst out, wondering why she'd gone through such torture she could've escaped.

Amanda paused, before simply replying: "Feels like an old pair, and he hit once or twice at the end there by accident. probably weakened them." She paused before slowly struggling to a seated position and beginning to remove the duct tape from around her ankles. It was clear that every movement hurt, but she didn't stop until she was free.

Even then, she dragged herself over to him, told him, "Turn around," and began working on his cuffs. Spence was feeling pretty useless, considering Amanda was enabling the escape, injured as she was, so he was at least trying to come up with a plan beyond simply getting out of their bonds.

"He leaves the door unlocked when he's down here," he blurted out suddenly. "Since the bolt's on the outside, he can't lock himself down here with us. Meaning our best chance to get away..."

"...is to turn the tables on him when he comes back down," Amanda finished for him. There was a pause before she asked the one question that could sink the fledgling plan. "In our condition, even two-on-one, do you think we can take him down?"

Honestly, he didn't, but he did have a plan. By the time he'd explained it, his hand were free and he'd removed his own duct tape. Amanda was still behind him, and he could tell she didn't want him to turn around and see her in this vulnerable state—shirtless, with old and new wounds mottling her torso. He reached the end of the rough plan he'd come up with, and he could almost feel her reluctance and displeasure hanging in the air between them.

Still, she dragged herself back to where she' previously lain, picking up both the cuffs and discarded tape as she muttered, "I hate this plan."

* * *

Amanda kept her eyes closed as she heard the bolt slide back, the door open, and their tormentor start down the stairs. She had to fight the panic that rose like bile in her throat as the man passed within inches of her—as much as she tried to pretend she was more or less mentally alright, you don't just shake off the sort of pain he'd put her through, much less the memories he'd triggered.

But the Unsub didn't even give her a second glance, stalking right past her and towards Spencer, who was also pretending to be still bound and helpless. Her last what-if scenario that could've changed the plan gone now that it was clear Spence was the new target, Amanda was forced to hold to the strategy Reid had come up with, hate it though she did.

She tried to steady her breathing and ignore the burning lances of pain from her burns and throbbing bruising from all the kicks, waiting for the signal. It came in the form of Reid surging to his feet and trying to tackle the startled Unsub. Hearing the sounds of a scuffle behind her, the younger agent got to her feet as quickly as her injuries allowed, and began staggering for the stairs and the half-opened door.

She hadn't made it more than twenty paces before a cry of pain from behind her confirmed her worse fears about the plan—Spence was already injured and physically outmatched, so the fight was likely not going to go well for her fellow agent.

She glanced behind her, and saw the young doctor doubled over, back to the wall and the Unsub coming in for the attack. Spence managed to straighten a little and raise a wrist to block the blow, but there was a sickening 'crack' and strangled yelp as the two limbs connected.

Amanda knew that the logical thing to do would be to keep running up the stairs, get to a phone and call Hotch and the others in for back up, but that would mean turning her back on her partner as a sadist beat him to a bloody pulp.

There was the sound of another hit connecting, another muffled cry of pain, and Amanda knew she couldn't force herself to leave Spencer behind. Grabbing the nearest object to hand—which happened to be the same poker he'd used to burn her—she stumbled back to the main area of the room, bringing the poker down with all the strength she could muster.

Unsteady as she was, it didn't inflict much damage, but it did, at least, get his attention away from Spence long enough for the other agent to recover a little. The Unsub whirled on Amanda, striking back in a flurry of blows that knocked her to the ground. Spence tried to grab the man's arms, to hold him back, but the broken wrist was a severe handicap in that.

Neither was going to last long in the continued fight, but a voice form the top of the stairs pulled everything to a halt:

"FBI—freeze!"

It was Rossi, with the rest of the team right behind him. As the others made their way down the stairs and into the room, taking down the Unsub, Amanda found her discarded shirt and tried to pull it back on, but thanks to her injuries had to settle for draping it over her shoulders, and trying to pull it closed without putting her arms through the sleeves.

Morgan moved to help Spence while Hotch and Prentiss dragged the Unsub up the stairs and Rossi crossed to Amanda. She tied to turn away from his probing, questioning eyes, but she didn't miss the concern turn to barely-concealed rage as he was able to take in just what injuries had been inflicted upon her.

"Let's get out of here," she said at last, trying to get away and leave the moment behind. "I'll be alright."

 _...Eventually._

* * *

 **So, yeah. My longest chapter for a while, and it's one where I'm giving some of my main characters a physical and mental beating. I really am a terrible person. Also, someone mentioned Hansel and Gretel in reviews to last week's chapter, and I was quite surprised. Great guess!  
** **As always, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	26. Chapter 25

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here! After the darkness and unhappiness that was the last few chapters, I figured a time skip and some adorable fluff was warranted, to reward both you, my readers, and the part of me that still cringes when my favorite characters are hurt or upset. (I think one or two curse words made their way in, though, so fair warning there.)  
** **Because I am required to say it: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.**

* * *

A week and a half after the fiasco in Indiana, most of Amanda's burn wounds had faded significantly, though the worst were still tender to the touch, and most of her bruises were either green or gone. But those who knew her best would be able to tell that deeper wounds were lingering still.

So, it was as much in an effort to reassure Joseph that she was now fine as it was simply to spend time with her boyfriend, that the second Saturday after she returned home was spent walking the path along the old C&O Canal. They were strolling, holding hands, and talking of nothing much in particular when Joseph finally stopped and led her to a bench on one side of the trail.

It was a clear, beautiful day in late January, and reasonably warm for that time of year, but it was still cold enough that they were mostly alone. The two FBI agents sat close together, silent for a bit, before Joseph looked down at the young lady he'd wrapped his arm around and asked quietly, "It's still getting to you, isn't it?" It made sense that it would be, since barely any time had passed since her capture and torture, but Amanda was trying hard— _too_ hard—to pretend that it wasn't. She'd even insisted on returning to work on the following Monday, and to put it frankly, he was worried about her.

For a moment, Amanda didn't answer, and simply relished the warm, safe feeling of leaning against him and feeling his arm around her, sheltering her, for the moment, from the storm within and the cold without. "Yeah," she admitted at last, without looking up at him. "Nightmares just about every night...again."

Joseph rested his chin on the top of her head for a moment, feeling powerless to help her wage the war in her mind. "About Indiana or..."

"All of it," she answered as her free hand tapped restlessly on her knee.

Not for the first time, Joseph was glad he hadn't been one of the agents on the scene, because at that moment, due process be damned—he wanted to kill the man that had tortured his girlfriend _and_ triggered painful memories she was still healing from. Desperate to do something—anything—useful, he asked, "What can I do to help you, Amanda?"

For a moment, silence stretched between them as the stream ran through the old canal banks and one or two joggers and bikers made their way past. Joseph didn't speak, didn't push, knowing that whatever her answer would be, it would take a lot for her to admit it. Amanda often tried to bear her own burdens to her own detriment, and it took a long time for her to let her guard down entirely. But finally, she did answer.

"Just be my anchor, help me move forward; but know that my demons have a very strong grip."

Joseph bent down, pressing a light kiss to the top of her head. "I promise."

* * *

That Monday, Amanda was back at her desk, and was surprised to see she wasn't behind in paperwork at all—someone had apparently done her share of the work in the past week and a half.

 _Morgan or Prentiss?_ Amanda quietly mused, even as she smiled, touched by their care. As if merely thinking his name had summoned the other agent, Derek made his way over to her desk, trying to grin in his usual teasing manner, but clearly still concerned.

"Hey, Ninja! You sure you're cleared to come back?"

Amanda smiled nodding, knowing she would get that question a lot that day. "Yes, Morgan, I was cleared as of Thursday, but Hotch told me to take the two extra days."

"Well, you must not be as stubborn as Reid, he came back on Wednesday, even though we all tried to get him to take the rest week off." Morgan nodded at her (mercifully) clear desk, "He helped me and Prentiss keep up your work. But the get-out-of paperwork free card only works once, Ninja."

Amanda again felt touched at her teammates concern, but wanted to keep with the light-hearted feel of the conversation. "And it says something that I'm in a unit where there's a frame of reference for that."

"Hey, most of that is thanks to Reid—the kid's a trouble magnet, I'm telling you."

"Oh, I'll second that," Prentiss affirmed as she approached the two.

From there, the conversation meandered to some harmless topic, but Amanda could tell they were both observing her with a profiler's eyes, trying to determine for themselves if she really was recovering as well as she said she did. Normally, she was grateful for the rule against profiling teammates, but in this case, out of concern, she was alright with it.

Soon, Reid entered, left wrist still in a cast but otherwise looking more-or-less recovered from their ordeal. He caught her assessing eye across the bull pen, and Amanda could tell that he was also trying to decide for himself if she was well enough to be back at work already.

 _We're a couple of hypocrites, aren't we, Reid?_

Morgan, noticing his friend's arrival, wandered over to the other agent, asking him something about the past weekend, leaving the two women still standing by Amanda's desk.

"By the way," Emily began, pulling Amanda's attention back to the dark-haired woman, "One of the pet shelters near my place is having an adoption drive this coming Saturday, and I've finally decided to get a cat. You want to come, too? I'll need someone to keep an eye on me, or I'll come home with three or four."

Amanda didn't have to think about that long—she liked many types of animals, but cats had always been a particular favorite. "I'd love to! Where should we meet? What time?"

* * *

That week had been all consultations, though Amanda hadn't been able to make up her mind on whether or not she thought that Hotch had done that intentionally to keep her and Spence out of the field. In the end, she wasn't that convinced—if a case had needed their attention, Hotch would've been more likely to take it and leave the younger two behind rather than turn it down point-blank.

* * *

That Saturday, Amanda met Joseph at the gym as usual, and her boyfriend used the excuse of her meeting with a co-worker after lunch to not push their workout too much, but really, he was more concerned about the burns that were most definitely not healed yet.

Through lunch, she seemed upbeat—excited about the adoption drive—wavering back and forth about whether she, too, should come home with a furry addition to her little household...or if she had the willpower to avoid it.

"Would you mind if I got one?" she asked abruptly, startling him from his reverie. At his questioning look, she elaborated: "Well, we never really talked about pets whenever we talked about the future...or ever, really, now that I think of it. That's kind of weird—all the things we talk about, and something as simple as that we never did..."

Joseph couldn't resist glancing down at the empty coffee cup by Amanda's plate, silently blaming it for her current caffeine rush, but not with any bitterness—frankly, he thought she was kind of adorable when she got this bubbly (which was extremely rare). Looking back up, he replied, "I don't know why it never came up, but to put your mind at ease—growing up, we usually had at least two cats and a dog, and I guess I can find it in my heart to share you with some four-legged fuzz ball." The last part was added in his 'teasing voice', and it got the intended result: a blush and laugh, but he actually _did_ like the idea of her having a pet around the apartment. After all, she liked taking care of others and feeling needed, so a cat or dog would be perfect.

He just hoped that, if she got a cat, it was as charitable towards him—cats were notoriously selective of people they admitted into their 'social circle'.

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, Amanda and Emily met up in front of the shelter that was hosting the event before making their way inside, both coming to the conclusion they wanted to get a pet for similar reasons: sometimes, an apartment with only one person just got too quiet.

"And I definitely want a rescue," Prentiss continued, peering into crate after crate. "They need people more, and the shelters are always so overcrowded."

Amanda hummed her agreement, letting a small tortoiseshell bat playfully at her finger, when a thought struck her. "What about when we're out of town for a case?"

"That's one reason to go for a cat—much more independent," Prentiss pointed out. "Anyway, one of my neighbors said she'd be happy to look in once a day, refill food bowls, empty the litterbox, and all that, when I'm away."

"So you definitely want an adult, or at least, one that's already litterbox trained," Amanda realized, stopping in front of one crate in particular. The small grey cat within pricked up his ears and bounded over, pressing his face against the front, and began purring as soon as Amanda's fingers made contact as she began to scratch behind his ears.

Emily looked at the halo of long, silvery-grey fur around the cat, and smiled. "Why does the name 'Grey Ghost' come to mind for this little guy?"

As Amanda kept petting (and the 'Grey Ghost' kept purring), one of the volunteers meandered over and began talking to the two agents. "This little guy's about six months old. We found him two weeks ago. He's real friendly, so we think he had an owner before; actually, we're positive, since he's already litterbox trained. He's part Persian."

At that last bit, Amanda glanced up in surprise, before looking back at the little creature still doing his best motor-boat imitation. "His nose isn't…well, flat, though," she pointed out, confused.

"I did say _part_ Persian," the young man admitted with a sheepish grin. "Most animals here aren't purebreds."

Eventually, reluctantly, Amanda followed her fellow agent further down the line of crates, down to where the adult cats were. Soon, Prentiss had picked out a slim, black tom with a sleek coat and bright golden eyes. "Sergio," Emily decided.

After she started the adoption paperwork and began making a list of supplies to get, Emily glanced over at the younger woman. "You're going to get 'Grey Ghost', aren't you?" Amanda hesitated, really wanting to, but a bit surprised at the impulsive nature of her own decision, even though she'd been pretty sure she'd leave the adoption drive with a pet of her own. "Go on," Emily continued, with a little shooing motion, "poor guy's probably wondering where you went."

As Amanda made her way back to the little Persian, he seemed to see her coming and jumped up, batting at the cage as far up as he could reach, as if begging to be picked up. Even the volunteer seemed surprised. "Okay, he's friendly, but he's never reacted to anyone like that before."

Amanda reached out, this time scratching the little guy under his chin, and the purring began again. "Well, I've heard that you pick a dog, but a cat picks you."

The young man laughed in agreement before asking, "Well, do you agree with his choice, then?" At Amanda's nod, he smiled. "Great! I'll get the papers ready and will you need a list of supplies to get?" Amanda nodded again, still taking in the silver fur that shone as the light hit it, those warm yellow-green eyes, and the way the cat pushed against her fingers, begging for more, purring all the while.

"Did you hear that, Casper?" she asked, the name simply popping into her head. "You get to come home with me today."

As if understanding her words, Casper purred louder.

* * *

 **So, yeah. I don't remember when Sergio is first introduced in the show, but I thought it would be a good friend-bonding moment for Amanda to be with Prentiss when she finds him, since the two girls don't seem to interact all that much in this story (at least, not in the parts I've written). And once that part came to mind, I thought of a particular kitten I met when a friend and I stopped in a pet shop last semester. We got to play with him, and we nicknamed him Casper, but our school doesn't allow pets in the dorms, so we couldn't adopt him, as much as we wanted to. So, as a bit of wish-fulfillment, I gave him to Amanda.  
** **Anyway, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	27. Chapter 26

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here with the next chapter of 'Demons'. I'm experimenting a little with pacing this time—trying to get a whole case finished in one chapter instead of breaking it up into two, so let me know how you think it worked!  
** **Because I am required to say it: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.**

* * *

Monday and Tuesday of the following week had been (mercifully) clear, but on Wednesday, that changed:

"Three children have been abducted from the local area in the past two days, Casey Williams, age 10, Ryan Freemont, age 8, and Rebekah Reynolds, age 13. In each case, the abductor left the same note behind: 'I can give them the life you never could.' We're operating from our own building, since it's local, but we'll have to hurry—he's already had Casey more than 36 hours."

The team snapped into action as soon as Hotch finished his little briefing, but Amanda couldn't help wondering how a girl had been missing for more than a day _before_ they had been contacted—they got most of the local child abduction cases. Something was definitely off with this case.

Almost as soon as the thought had crossed her mind, Garcia came bustling in, and everyone turned to the technical analyst, who was directing her report to the Unit Chief. "Sir, I did that research into the families' backgrounds that you asked for, and I think I found something."

"What is it, Garcia?" Hotch asked, knowing time was of the essence but that every bit of information could help.

"Well, sir," she began, "all three families have a recorded history of abuse or neglect. Actually, it got so bad with the Williams's and Freemont's that Social Services were about to remove Casey and Ryan from their parents' care."

 _And_ _there's_ _the missing piece,_ Amanda thought to herself, and could see her teammates digesting this revelation as well.

"Taken in context of the note then," Emily began, "Think it's safe to assume our Unsub thinks he's rescuing these kids?"

"It's a strong possibility," Rossi admitted.

Hotch snapped into action, delivering orders: "Garcia, can you look for an overlap for these three kids, and someone who would know about all three situations? Amanda, you and Spencer stay here and work the geographical profile. Rossi, Prentiss—talk to the families. Morgan, you and I will coordinate with local law enforcement and see what social services can tell us."

Reid scowled at his still-healing wrist, as if blaming it for his being sidelined, but Amanda knew that, for her part, there was another reason she wouldn't be talking to the families or Social Services.

* * *

Spence kept glancing over at Amanda as she worked the geographical profile with him, noticing that she wasn't just quieter than usual with this case, but a bit of that biting tone he'd heard in that basement in Indiana was coming back into her voice. He couldn't tell if it was just because she was still trying to get past that experience, or if something about _this_ case had a trigger in it for her as well, but he didn't feel quite comfortable to ask, at least, not directly.

But he also couldn't shake the memory of all the scars on her back, or the feeling that there had been more than trauma at being captured behind her reaction—something from years ago, maybe?

Amanda caught his questioning glance, and seemed to read his mind (perhaps because his gaze had momentarily flicked to her now-covered back), and the defensive glare in her eyes firmly convinced him now was not the time to broach what he'd seen.

Just then, Garcia came bustling in, unknowingly breaking the tense moment. "I got the overlap! No suspects yet, but I found out that Casey, Ryan, and Rebekah all attended the same after-school program at a local Rec Center. They went on different days of the week, so I doubt they ever met, but I will start looking into employee records right away!" with that, she sped back to her tech cave, leaving it to the two younger agents to call their superiors with the latest information.

* * *

"I've got him! He fits the profile to the letter: former abusive home, removed from parental custody and shuffled from bad foster home to worse. Volunteers at the after-school program, but doesn't seem to have much of a social life. Definitely interacts with kids more than adults."

"Name and address, Garcia?" Hotch's voice on the conference call was a little distorted, but even so, Amanda could hear his tone of strained patience.

"Jeremiah Dillon, and I just sent home and work address to your tablets."

The call ended, and the two agents stuck at Quantico shared a grimace of mutual disgust at their own uselessness on the case.

* * *

"I'm telling you," Morgan was saying alter, recounting the arrest to his younger two friends, "you should have seen it: Jeremiah was trying to go the whole picket-fence life. We got their just in time, 'cause the kids were questioning it more and more."

Spence nodded, following the train of thought. "He was growing more and more frustrated that they were non-compliant and ungrateful?"

Amanda glanced over at the fourth member of the group, the one who hadn't said much. "Something wrong, Prentiss?"

"I guess I was just wondering what'll become of the kids now—I mean, with Casey and Ryan not going home, and Rebekah going back to a potentially abusive home."

"I don't know about Rebekah," Amanda admitted, "but Case and Ryan...it really depends on where their placed and who with. Some are better than others, and some almost feel normal. It won't be easy though, and as bad as life was with their parents, they'll still miss them."

She hadn't realized she'd said that part aloud until she realized her three fellow agents were all staring at her, questioning. Resigned, she admitted in a small voice: "My brothers and I were in the system because our mother was deemed unfit and our dad hadn't been in the picture since before Jaimie was born."

She turned away then, effectively putting an end to that conversation, keeping one educated guess to herself: even though they questioned it, and mostly feared it, the fact that someone had tried to give them an 'ideal home life' would stay with them. In part, somewhere down inside, they may have enjoyed it, only to learn that it didn't last—beneath the ideal was the dark, twisted truth.

 _Isn't there always?_

* * *

 **So, yeah. I don't think I'm a fan of this pacing-it felt too rushed. But with Spence and Amanda sidelined, I couldn't go into too much detail. That will change as they recover, and I'll go back to the more natural pacing, I promise!  
** **As always, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	28. Chapter 27

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here! It's a shorter chapter this week, but don't worry—next week we'll have two going up at once for you guys!  
** **Because I am required to say it: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.**

* * *

Thursday evening found Joseph in Amanda's apartment, sitting beside her on the couch. They didn't often get together on weeknights, since both usually had to go in early to work and they tended to talk late into the night when they were with each other, but sometimes, like that night, they made exceptions.

"You have that meeting with Strauss and Hotch tomorrow, right?" Joseph asked at last, noticing she was quieter than normal. "Is that what's got you worried?"

Amanda nodded after a moment. "It's not so bad, but yeah. She wants to see how I'm adjusting to the team and all that—a performance review basically. I've always known something like this was coming, but so soon after Indiana..."

Joseph understood. There were so many ways that fiasco could be turned against her: used to show she wasn't used to working with the unit (as if being captured was somehow her fault), or that she simply wasn't ready to take on unsubs that were that disturbed, or used as a basis to side-line her for a while until she 'recovered' from the trauma.

"But Hotch'll be there, right? He'll stand up for you."

"Only if he truly believes I've helped more than I've hindered," Amanda countered. "He doesn't give out idle praise."

"But he trusts you," Joseph refuted, knowing this was (hopefully) temporary self-doubt that would be banished after tomorrow's meeting.

The conversation halted there as a grey fuzzy head finally poked itself out from under the chair across the room—where it had vanished as soon as Joseph came in.

"Look who's finally decided to come out and say 'hi'," Amanda whispered as neither agent moved, watching Casper gradually emerge and make his way over to them. "I don't know why he hid—he's not normally skittish."

By now, the six-month-old kitten was at their feet and alternating between rubbing against Amanda's ankles and sniffing Joseph's pants legs. Finally, Casper seemed to make up his mind, and gathered himself for a leap, landing right in Joseph's lap. He immediately curled up and began purring as the two agents stared at him.

"I guess he made up his mind, then," Amanda murmured in slight surprise.

A few minutes later, when they decided it was time to make dinner, Casper yowled in protest as Joseph tried to stand, and the young man froze, looking helplessly at his girlfriend, who'd turned back halfway to the kitchen. She snorted back a laugh before saying, "Looks like you're stuck there, for a bit. Give him a few minutes and he'll probably decide to move on his own." Turning back to the kitchen, she couldn't resist a sly: "...if you're lucky."

She just couldn't help herself—there was something inherently funny about a six-foot-two FBI agent being held hostage by a six-month-old kitten.

* * *

"I'm not questioning your capability as an agent," Strauss stressed halfway through the meeting Friday morning, "you're record with both this and your previous units testifies to you being a competent, reliable team member."

This statement was clearly meant to be reassuring, but the fact that all adjectives used could describe an average performance just as well as an exceptional one, not to mention the conditional phrasing and the unstated 'but' were not lost on Amanda or her unit chief. In fact, from the corner of his eye, Hotch saw Amanda's stance shift in much the same way it had in his final interview with him, when she'd expected to have to defend herself.

"With that said..." Erin went on, and Amanda took a deep breath. _Here it comes._

"I do wonder if having you remain a part of the BAU would be harmful to your mental and emotional health."

 _And there it is—Indiana fallout._

"After all, given your background, the events of the last few weeks must've been doubly traumatic—can you honestly say they were not?"

Amanda took a deep breath before saying calmly, "I think anyone who found themselves in that situation would have to deal with some amount of panic and trauma, but I am confident that I have been processing and dealing with it in a way that is not detrimental to the team."

"And I would agree with SSA Johnson's assessment," Hotch said in a level tone. "even through these trying circumstances, her work ethic and performance are exemplary."

Strauss only shook her head. "That was not my question—I've seen the reports about her performance, I'm asking after her _wellbeing_. Can you, SSA Johnson, honestly claim to be suffering no ill-effects of your recent capture relating to the abuse you suffered as a—"

"With all due respect, ma'am," Hotch cut in abruptly, "SSA Johnson has not only seen an FBI-approved therapist, but has been cleared by him to return to work. This means that any further matters that pass between them are protected by doctor-patient confidentiality. They are both obligated to report anything that would affect her work here, but everything else is between them alone."

It was a wonder, Amanda noted, that Hotch's statement came out merely as a statement of fact, the reprimand being only implied so he could not be accused of undercutting _his_ superior, but still enabling him to make it clear that Erin had nearly crossed an ethical line.

When they were finally released (after Strauss backed down, and even gave something that could be construed as an apology), unit chief and agent made their way back to the bullpen area. Before they got there, Amanda glanced at the man beside her. "Thanks for sticking up for me back there."

"You're a valuable member of this team," Hotch assured her.

"Still, I do owe you," the young woman joked.

To her surprise, Hotch half-smiled in reply and actually joked back: "How do you feel about baby-sitting?"

* * *

 **So, yeah. I'm not actually sure where the inspiration for this chapter came from, but I knew I wanted a sense of how Hotch feels Amanda is fitting in, and since he doesn't tend to share much, a meeting with Strauss seemed the most logical scenario for that.  
** **As always, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	29. Chapter 28

**Hello everybody; ModernDayBard here! We have another short fluff chapter, but since this is a two-chapter week, it will be immediately followed by the first half of the next case. Enjoy!  
** **Because I am required to say it: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.**

* * *

Once the stress over Strauss's 'check-in' was gone, Amanda seemed back to her old self, joining in team banter and getting her work done, and whether or not she was honestly and truly recovering from her trauma or just getting better at compartmentalizing, the team respected her privacy enough not to pry...

...Into that one matter. Anything else...

"So, you got any special plans this weekend, Ninja?" Morgan asked, eyes sparking with mischievous humor. "You and Joe doing something special for V-Day?"

Amanda rolled her eyes at the exaggerated prying, then smiled sweetly. "Plans of some sort—but Joseph said it's going to be a surprise." Given that this didn't give her fellow agent much material, she figured the teasing would end there. Instead, Morgan just changed tracks and kept going.

"Hey, has anyone given this guy the big-brother 'you-hurt-this-girl-you'll regret-it talk?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," Amanda replied, still keeping her voice calm as she listed them off. "Jason and Brandon via email when I began dating him, Garcia, Prentiss, you, _and_ Rossi at the New Year's party..."

She trailed off as another agent came in with a question for Derek, and she finished her list under her breath and to herself: "And Casper, too, in his own, special way..."

* * *

The year before, Valentine's Day had been _very_ traditional for Joseph and Amanda, and while they had enjoyed it, it was abundantly clear that Joseph had something quite different up his sleeve this time around.

Actually, it started off like most of their weekend dates did—meeting up for their obstacle run, then showering up and heading to the café for the same lunch. Amanda appreciated the nod to their routine—it was nice to be able to rely on some things to be the same—but she could tell that things were about to change by the excited look in his eyes.

After they left the café, the taller agent turned to the woman at his side with an eager grin. "Gardens, music, and theater: What do these three things all have in common?"

"I'm not sure, but I'd venture to say something about today's activity?" Amanda replied, as she tried to guess which way her boyfriend's mind was going.

"Correct, in part, but only because of the _other_ thing they have in common," Joseph corrected. "The truth is all three of those are things or activities we have always mentioned enjoying, but rarely pursue together. So, when I heard that there are live musical and theatrical performances all this afternoon into this evening at a local botanical gardens..." he trailed off, then offered her his arm.

She took it, her smile communicating just how excited she was by the idea.

* * *

Some performances were more in line with their tastes than others, but all were enjoyable to some degree, and all were well-done, whether they were one-act plays, improvisational acting, original songs, or covers in every genre one could think of.

They also took some time, near the early evening, to wander through the green house to see the less hardy or out-of-season blooms that the Gardens wanted on display in mid-February. Most prominent was the huge room dedicated to every variety of rose you could imagine—and several you couldn't. There, Joseph took the opportunity to embrace and kiss Amanda, pulling just far back enough to whisper: "You deserved so much more than just a paltry dozen roses. They say there's about a thousand in here..."

This time, she was the one kissing _him_ , and he wasn't complaining one bit.

* * *

 **So, yeah. I wrote this one two weeks after Valentine's Day, so it's not as badly out of season as some previous holiday chapters are. And yes, this may or may not be the kind of V-Day date that I would want to go on, but I figured now would be a good time to cut Amanda a break, since she won't get too many of those going forward.  
** **As always, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	30. Chapter 29

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here with the second chapter for this week! We're back to our two-chapter-a-case format, so hopefully the pacing is better than last time.  
** **Because I am required to say it: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.**

* * *

"In the past week and a half, three small business owners have been found, throats and wrists slashed in the burned wreckage of their own businesses," Garcia reported, doing her best not to look at the grisly images behind her on the screen. "The ME reports that Hannah Small, Jonathon Peere, and Isaac Wesley were all dead before the fires were lit, and all were attacked on nights they normally worked late."

"So, he obviously watched them and learned their patterns and habits," Rossi observed. "Odd choice of victim pool. Is it a large one in that part of Tennessee?" He'd noticed the state on his preliminary skim of the file, but not the town name.

"A bit disproportionally so," Garcia informed. "All three were from the same part of downtown Red Creek, Tennessee, which has a program in place to support owner-run small businesses."

Amanda didn't flinch at the name of the town—she had keyed in on it when she first saw it on the file, so was already bracing herself.

 _That's where Brandon lives—where he has his shop._

* * *

"But why small business owners?" Morgan asked once everyone was on the plane.

Spence shifted, frowning in thought. "Maybe he's upset by the subsidies and incentives given to them? Sees it as unfair?" He soon got off topic, rambling about the small-business movement and its history in America in the last few decades, but Amanda tuned him out.

She wasn't trying to be rude, but it was all she could do not to panic. Her brother was right in the middle of the age spread of victims, and his carpentry shop and workshop were just a few blocks from the second victim's photography business, right in the hunting zone.

Rossi obviously didn't know, because Hotch hadn't ordered her off the case yet, which she was sure he would as soon as he knew just how close it was to being personal for her.

* * *

Amanda was sent with Emily to check out what remained of Hannah's bakery, not that there was much to see, over ten days later. Still, the only other employee—Hannah's best friend, Melody, met them there to answer some questions about the first victim.

"I just can't believe she's gone," the twenty-three-year-old kept muttering as she tried to maintain composure. "She was one of the only people in town willing to give me a second chance after I was busted for marijuana possession. I mean, she was committed to me staying clean, but she made sure I had work, a place to live, a good support system...She really understood about second chances after she got this place, you know?"

The two female agents stood a little straighter at that. "Second chances?" Emily asked gently.

Melody nodded, a little shaky. "She was one of those girls who married straight out of high school, but he was a jerk—hit her, drank all the time. Eventually, he left. Everyone expected her to fall flat, but she worked her way through business school and started the bakery. It was just taking off, too. It was supposed to be her ticket to a better life, but now she's—she's—" Sobs cut the young woman off, and the two women stepped back a little, both convinced that what they'd just learned was somehow important to the case.

* * *

"So the bakery was Hannah's second chance?" Spence repeated as the two women made her report. "The people we talked to at Jonathon's photography shop said the same."

"Yeah," Morgan echoed. "Turns out this guy used to be a world-class alcoholic, but after he was nearly killed in a car accident, he got sober, turned his life around, and was just getting on his feet."

Rossi frowned at the information. "To a degree, Isaac's flower shop was the same way. He's been cancer free for two years now, and the shop had just celebrated its first anniversary. He was finally debt-free and ready to turn a profit."

Emily leaned back in her chair. "So, his victimology is narrower than we thought—it's not just small business-owners, its unexpected second chances? Maybe he sees them as undeserved second chances?"

If anyone notices how quiet Amanda was being, they didn't comment on it. Finally she excused herself under the pretense of using the restroom, but stopped once she was around the corner from the conference room they'd been given and pulled out her phone. She pulled up her contacts list, selected one of the first, and waited, tapping her foot nervously as it went to voicemail.

 _No need to panic—he could have one of the tools going and not hear it._

"Hey, Brandon, it's me, Amanda. I don't know if you've been following the news much but yeah, I'm in town with my team. We're a little busy with the case right now, but I plan to take a day or two afterwards if you want to meet up for lunch or something—I'd love to meet Marianne again."

She paused, then said quickly, "Look, I can't say any details about the case but just...be careful. No one ever thinks these crazies will go after them but still...better safe than sorry, yeah?"

Losing her nerve, Amanda hung up, pocketed her phone, and made her way back to the conference room, trying to act as if everything was normal.

If anyone disbelieved her, they didn't let on.

* * *

"Our darling Emily was on the right track," Garcia reported. "I have for you today one bitter soul driven by jealousy of other's second chances: Elias Gillman, 54, who has applied three times for his own business proposal to be supported by the new program, only to be turned down because of a prior criminal record."

"Anything in particular stand out?" Rossi asked.

Garcia didn't miss a beat. "Mainly the last robbery he was involved with, in which a cashier was shot and killed. He wasn't the one that pulled the trigger, which is why he's free at all, but because of that, he's ineligible for the incentive program. Ooh, looks like Elias has an adult daughter who refuses to see him—and he calls her quite a bit. Almost as much as he calls the program's board..."

"Names and addresses, Garcia."

"On the way to your tablets now, my valiant crime fighters!" their tech analyst called. "Garcia out."

* * *

Amanda, Spence, and Rossi were the ones sent to check out Elias's home address, but it was pretty clear that he wasn't there. However, it only took one glance around the basement for it also to become pretty clear that they had the right man—the walls were covered in bulletin boards, each one dedicated to a different business owner in town, with pictures and hand-written notes of their schedule and patterns. The first three were of the three victims, and the fourth...

"Hotch and the others are at the dump where he works—he apparently left early today," Rossi reported, hanging up the phone as he came into the room. "Based on when he left, he'd have been here by now if the was coming home, so he might be moving on to the next victim..."

The older agent's voice trailed off as he noticed what Amanda already had, before glaring at the young woman accusingly—why had she neglected to tell them something this important? Spence wasn't oblivious to the exchange, either, but assumed Rossi recognized the subject of the fourth board from the photographs of her brothers Amanda kept on her desk.

"We better get moving," Rossi said at last, his cold tone only increasing Amanda's feelings of guilt. "Do you know the way to your brother's shop?"

Her only reply was to run for the SUV.

* * *

 **So, yeah. Probably no surprise there, given I established in the first scene that this case takes place in Brandon's town. And Rossi apparently knows Amanda's brothers as well as her... Is it a clue to her past? Perhaps. Will they arrive in time to save Brandon? Tune in next week to find out!  
** **As always, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	31. Chapter 30

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here with this week's chapter! Hopefully that last cliffhanger didn't leave you guys** _ **too**_ **mad at me...Anyway, to make it up to you, here is the finale of this case!  
** **Because I am required to say it: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.**

* * *

Amanda sat in the passenger seat of the SUV, giving Rossi directions and grateful she still remembered her way around the town, despite the fact it'd been more than a year since she visited Brandon. The older agent seemed to have gotten over his earlier anger, if only because the current situation was punishment enough for Amanda.

She caught the concerned looks he was giving her, and could tell that Spence, who'd just gotten off the phone with Hotch, explaining the situation, was also worried about how she'd handle the coming confrontation, given what was at stake for her.

Just as they pulled up in front of the shop, which Amanda was relieved to see wasn't yet on fire, meaning they still might have a chance to save Brandon, Rossi turned towards her, giving her the order she'd been expecting the whole way there: "You're staying with the SUV's until this situation's been resolved." Amanda nodded her, and though she wasn't happy, she understood.

The BAU didn't always have the best record when cases got too personal...

* * *

The others pulled up mere moments after Rossi and company did, and Elias had apparently heard the sirens—through one of the shop windows, he could be see standing behind Brandon, holding a hand gun to the young man's head. They were in a hostage situation, and Amanda could do nothing but watch and try to make out what she could about her brother's condition.

Brandon was standing, under his own power as near as his worried sister could tell, but he did seem to slump a little; he had a bloody cut across his forehead, one of his arms hung at an awkward angle, and he didn't seem to be putting any weight on his left leg. She wasn't close enough to tell if he was dazed or unfocused—if he had a concussion—but, from she could see, it was clear that he'd tried to put up a fight when first attacked.

 _If he did, that was probably what delayed Elias long enough for us to get here in time._

The local police were on site now, as well, and Morgan ordered them to take up different positions around the building. Amanda was trying to stay calm, but the longer this situation stretched on, the harder that would be for her.

Suddenly, Hotch's radio buzzed with Morgan's voice as the other agent reported from his position near the side of the shop. "Hotch, I have a clear shot. Do I take it?"

One part of Amanda wanted their boss to say yes—to get her brother out of danger as soon as possible—but another worried that a single wrong move just as Derek fired would put Brandon, not Elias, in the line of fire. She trusted her team with many things, up to and including her own life, but asking her to trust them with her family's well-being tapped into fears she'd lived with for too long.

"If it's clear, do it," Hotch ordered, and his words were followed by the sharp retort of a single gunshot.

Amanda tensed as Elias fell, taking Brandon down with him, as the younger man seemed to have been using his attacker to keep weight off his injured leg. It took all of the young woman's will power not to immediately charge forward, but as soon as the police entering the building confirmed that Elias was dead and the building was clear, that willpower broke, and Amanda ran to where her brother lay, dazed and half-conscious, but thankfully still breathing.

Physical wounds could and would heal—Amanda knew too well that the day's ending could've been much different, much worse.

* * *

Amanda had ridden in the ambulance with her brother, but had been forced to wait in the hall while the doctors assessed his condition, splinted broken limbs, and checked for a concussion. That was where Hotch and the others found her, pacing and trying not to panic.

When she spotted her team coming, the auburn-haired young woman hung her head. "I'm sorry I didn't mention Brandon living here before. I was afraid of being taken off the case before I knew if he was a potential victim or not."

"We'll talk about it later," was all Hotch said, and Amanda feared that her boss' good opinion, so recently expressed, had been lost.

Rossi saw her face fall and passed close by her, whispering, "It wouldn't have been the first time we've taken on a personal case. I think they're just a bit disappointed you didn't trust them with that information."

That didn't necessarily make Amanda feel any better, but it seemed that, for the moment, her team was willing to let it drop.

"Heard anything yet?" Morgan asked quietly.

"No, but he never fully lost consciousness in the ambulance, so they think his concussion might not be that bad. His arm's probably broken, and his leg, too, but that'll heal," she reported from what she remembered and had observed during the ride there. After a moment of silence, she met the taller man's eyes and said very quietly, "Thank you." He didn't respond aloud, but she could tell he understood.

* * *

Later, after he'd described events to the police and had been informed that he would have to stay in the hospital at least overnight, Brandon was allowed to have visitors. The rest of the BAU gestured for Amanda to go on without them, knowing she'd want some time alone with her brother. Only Rossi remained, just to be sure she'd have a ride back to the hotel, though he doubted she'd take him up on it.

The two siblings had barely gotten past the preliminaries, the 'I'm-glad-you're-okay-oh-God-I-was-so-worried's' when they were joined by another young woman, her strawberry-blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, her paint-splattered clothes a testament to work as a scene painter for the local theater.

"Brandon!" she gasped, coming right into the room and over to the other side of the red-head's bed. "I just got the call—Oh my God, are you okay?"

Brandon tried to sit up a little straighter on the bed, reaching out to the woman with his uninjured arm. "I'm alright, I'm fine, Marianne, really. It all worked out; I'm okay, just a little banged up."

Marianne took the outstretched hand, only them seeming to notice the room's other occupant. Her confused expression cleared in a moment of recognition as she greeted the FBI agent, "Oh, Amanda! Hello!" Then the confusion returned. "But how did you get here so..." Realization again. "Oh. So it was that—oh."

She didn't seem to have much to say to that, and the moment was threatening to turn awkward (which would've been too bad—Amanda really liked Marianne and thought she was perfect for Brandon), when Amanda noticed something and turned a smirking expression to her brother. "I see you took our advice," she said, nodding towards the simple ring Marianne was wearing—one she hadn't had the last time the two women had met. "When were you going to tell us?"

The two blushed in unison, and Amanda chuckled as they stammered their excuses, something about just happening on Valentine's Day. As mildly annoyed as she was he hadn't told her yet, she was glad she could still fulfill her sisterly duties of annoying and embarrassing her big brother.

* * *

Later that night, when Marianne had stepped out a moment to grab the three better food than the hospital provided, Brandon turned to his sister with a half-smile. "Looks like Jason and I have to eat our words—I got into trouble, and my baby sister the FBI agent had to save my ass. So much for worrying about _you_ getting into dangerous situations..."

Amanda forced a smile, knowing he was trying to get her to laugh, but she was remembering all too clearly the story she hadn't told either brother—of events in Indiana, and the fact that even now, she was still dealing with the fall-out thereof.

 _Some things they're better off_ _not_ _knowing._

* * *

 **So, yeah. I guess that was a bit of a quick resolution, but I've already tortured Amanda so badly, and have more in store for her, so I cut her some slack this time. And just in case my word choice in the beginning was confusing, this is in no way the end of this story, just for this particular case.  
** **As always, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know**


	32. Chapter 31

**Hello, everybody; ModernDayBard here! Funny story, I sat down to do today's writing thinking 'oh yeah, I know exactly where I am in writing, I don't need to look at my plan'—and started trying to write the next chapter instead of this one. Fortunately I'd only gotten the author's note done before I noticed my mistake, so it wasn't too bad. Still, pride goes before a fall...  
** **Because I am required to say it: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.**

* * *

True to Rossi's word, and contrary to Amanda's fear, the team seemed to mostly understand her motivations for not telling them about the case being in her brother's hometown, and most of their disappointment stemmed from her lack of trust. Still, even in that, they were kind to her, and though Hotch did give her an official reprimand, the young agent was able to note later that it seemed he'd done so more because he had to than because he actually blamed her for anything that had happened in Tennessee.

By the time a week had passed and Penelope's birthday was rolling around, the whole unit seemed prepared to put events behind them and focus on celebrating their favorite technical analyst. Morgan and Emily had managed to secure a reservation for the whole group at one of Garcia's favorite restaurants, which predictably brought out some tears from the bubbly blonde, but on the whole, the evening promised to be a pleasant one.

Naturally, with their luck, that was exactly when and where things went wrong...

* * *

"Do you believe in curses or jinxes?" Rossi asked Hotch, from where he sat beside the younger man, keeping a careful eye on the three figures in the center of the room. When Aaron didn't respond, the older agent elaborated. "I mean, only our team could come to one of the nicer restaurants in DC on the exact night that three masked idiots would attack, hold everyone hostage and attempt to rob them."

Hotch couldn't resist the quirk of a smile at that, even as he muttered back. "If it's any sort of bad luck, I don't think it's ours."

"Very true, my friend," Rossi conceded, glancing around the room at the other two clumps of hostages—and members of the team. "Very true."

* * *

Emily caught Rossi's glance nodding back subtly—she and Derek would be ready to make what moves were necessary, though, for the moment, Morgan was mostly concerned with keeping a panicking Garcia from hyperventilating as he also tried to calm the other hostages in their group.

The brunette spared a moment to cast a sympathetic look at the technical analyst. _Some birthday present this turned out to be, Penelope. I'm sorry._

* * *

To Amanda's surprise and relief, she didn't feel the same rising panic she had the last time she an Spence had been held by an Unsub—probably because there wasn't the threat of immediate torture, or perhaps because they were surrounded by frightened civilians that would need their help before the evening was over—though she wondered if the sense of amusement she felt (similar to that Rossi and Hotch had remarked on) was actually a symptom of hysteria.

Still, hysteria or not, she and Spence, like the other hostages, weren't bound, merely herded into one of the corners of the restaurant and forced to sit on the floor. Like their other team members, they'd worked their way to the front of their respective group (not a hard feat, since most others didn't want to be any closer to the menacing guns than they had to be) and so were in a good position for when the time came to act.

* * *

The BAU's first move was a subtle one, actually. Rossi, the best by far in hostage negotiation, struck up a seemingly nonchalant conversation with the three would-be robbers. The other hostages, especially in his group, stared at the older man as if wondering whether or not he'd taken leave of all of his good senses, but the other FBI agents had to suppress smiles at the skill with which Rossi and Hotch, who had also jumped in, grabbed and held the attention of all three gunmen.

Once it was clear to all present profilers that no mental illnesses of conditions were at play, Spencer and Amanda were the next to act. Their group of hostages had been closest to the kitchen doors—doors which hadn't been blocked, merely watched by one of the gunmen. Now the escape route was open as Rossi and Hotch held the attention of all there masked figures. Gesturing for absolute silence, the youngest two agents in the unit stood and led their group to the kitchen, slowly opening the doors and ushering the others through. Spence dared to whisper, "Don't say anything, try the back door. If it's locked, take cover in there. Just don't make any noise."

Once group one was safe, and after a quick glance confirmed the attempted robbery was still being interrupted by their bosses, Amanda waved for the group of hostages Garcia, Morgan, and Emily had been placed with, indicating for them to silently follow the others. The technical analyst was reluctantly bringing up the tail of the group, and a third of the hostages, the ones nearest Hotch and Rossi, were still in danger when one of the gunmen started to turn back to the side of the restaurant they'd been ignoring.

In that instant, all six FBI agents present switched tactics, knowing quick action was necessary. Derek and Emily charged the man who was turning, tackling him before he could fire while Spence and Amanda took down the one nearest them and Hotch and Rossi surged to their feet and subdued the one who'd been the closest to their group.

Apparently, one of the first hostages to leave via the staff exit had been able to contact the police, as they showed up only moments thereafter to take control of the situation. After what felt like hours of answering questions individually, the team was able to regroup around their still-stunned technical analyst.

"I'm sorry tonight didn't go as planned," Hotch offered, but that was as far as he got before Garcia cut him off.

"But nothing bad happened—you got everyone to safety and nobody got hurt! And the way you all worked together without having to talk about it—it was like there was some kind of telepathy or mind link which I know people say is impossible, but then you see things like this...I mean, it was utterly terrifying, and I wasn't particularly happy to see you guys face off against three gun-wielding weirdos when none of you were armed, but still, on the whole, not a bad birthday..."

Morgan laughed then, cutting off her ramble by pulling the babbling blonde into a hug. "What would we do without you, Baby Girl?"

* * *

 **So, yeah. I know I said I wouldn't do anymore one-chapter cases, but this one was meant to move that quickly, so I figured splitting it into two chapters wouldn't work at all. (Also, it's not really a traditional 'case' per se.) Also, I didn't even try to look up to see if it's actually cannon-ly established when Garcia's birthday is, so if I got that completely wrong, I apologize and take full responsibility.**

 **As always, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	33. Chapter 32

**Early this week, but I'll be busy on Sunday, and I didn't want to keep you guys waiting, so here's the next chapter!**

* * *

 **Hello everybody; ModernDayBard here! It's kind of funny, because when I looked at my plan to see what this chapter would be about, I was thinking 'oh, we're heading into the end here, then.' Then I looked at how many chapters are left, and it's at least ten. Yeah, only in one of my stories could having a quarter of the story left to get through be considered entering the final phase.  
** **Because I am required to say it: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.**

* * *

"Hey Garcia," Amanda called as she casually strolled into their technical analyst's office a few days later. "Got a minute?"

The blonde gave her a dubious look. "Oh, my sweet girl, for my friends I often have more than that. What do you need? What brings you here on your precious lunch break?"

"Interpersonal advice," the young woman admitted with some embarrassed reluctance. "And it's definitely not a matter I want to bring up in a room of profilers."

"Wise choice. Come have a seat and tell Auntie Penelope what's up. What and who. ...Is it someone on the team?"

Amanda took the offered chair, resisting the urge to pull her knees up to her chest and sit curled up. "No, no...it's actually...well, it's Joseph."

 _That_ got Garcia's attention.

"Your boyfriend? The one we met at New Years?" Amanda nodded, and a note of protective fury crept into the blonde's tone. "What has he done?"

"Nothing!" Amanda answered quickly before speaking in a more certain tone. "Nothing, he just...it seems like something's been up with him for a few days now, like he's worried or upset about something. I asked him about it, and normally he would've told me—we're both open with each other—but this time he tried to pretend like nothing was wrong...and not very successfully either. I don't want to pry or nag, but he's been like this for almost a week now."

Penelope carefully observed the other woman in front of her for a moment, before deciding she was safe in offering a piece of chocolate rather than a tissue, for the moment at least (she'd still keep the box close at hand). "I'm going to be a bit nosy, but have things been going well lately for you guys? I know you've been under a lot of stress and pressure since coming here..."

"Things have been good—I mean, Joseph's been one of the constants to get me through the hardest parts of this year, and we make the effort to line up our schedules for time together as much as possible, and not because it's an obligation, but because we genuinely enjoy each other's company. Valentine's Day was amazing; things didn't start getting weird until a few days later."

"Do you think he could be just a little upset that you took a few days off with your brother without telling him you'd planned to do so? Not that you were wrong—just, it might've caught him off-guard," Garcia hastily added.

Amanda shook her head. "I called him that first night, he said to take as much time as I needed, and he wasn't just saying that—I can tell when he really means something. He even asked me to keep him updated on Brandon's condition and asked if there was anything he could do."

"Could he be feeling left out because we didn't invite him to come to the restaurant? Or worrying after the fact?"

"This isn't how he acts when worried—trust me. And he understood about it just being a team event that night. I mean, he was worried, but this is something else..." Amanda let her voice trail off before adding quietly, "I'm scared, Garcia. My mind keeps jumping to the worst possibilities, and I-I keep coming back to the same point: I don't want to lose him. I just want him to tell me what's wrong so that we can fix it and move past. I've never let myself open up to anyone else the way I have to him. There are things he knows, especially about the last few months, that I haven't even told my brothers. You don't know how hard it is for me to get to that point with anyone..."

Garcia stood, crossed to the other woman, and pulled her into a hug, wishing she had answers or a magic 'fix-it' button. "I don't know, sweetie. I wish I did, but I don't. All I'll say is: he doesn't sound like the kind of man to walk away without at least trying to fix the problem. Give him some more time, and he might bring it up on his own."

* * *

 _Oh, Garcia...you don't know how right you were._

The fact that that one thought crossed Amanda's mind in crystalline clarity in that moment was testament to how shocked she was. She stared at Joseph in disbelief as her mind was temporarily unable to process his last words, and he looked up at her with hopeful eyes from his kneeling position.

" _Amanda Lillian Johnson, will you marry me?"_

Had he said that—had he _actually_ said that? A man never asked that question unless he was almost certain of the answer, which meant Joseph was more certain than Amanda at that moment. She wanted to be able to say 'yes', to be able to feel like she was finally free to create the happy home life many would've said it was impossible for her to achieve—she wanted to be happy and make Joseph happy, too. Like she'd told Garcia, she didn't want to leave or lose him, and a part of her, a _large_ part of her, did want to spend the rest of her life with him.

But suddenly, the level of intimacy that was symbolized in the ring he was holding out to her was a singularly terrifying idea. How could she open herself up all the way to this most wonderful of men when she couldn't even face the echoes of those screams? She'd thought she was past them, free from them, in part thanks to the man in front of her, but it seems they'd merely been resting, waiting to surge up and steal the joy from what should have been one of the happiest moments of both of their lives.

"I'm scared."

At those two words, the hope in Joseph's eyes (that'd slowly been fading as she stood unresponsive) changed to concern as he stood. There may have been a little hurt in his expression as well, but he tried to hide it as he reached out to her with the empty hand. "Of me?" She shook her head. "Of marriage?" A pause, then she started to shake her head, but then changed her mind and nodded instead.

"I don't want to say no; I _don't_ ," Amanda insisted in a tiny voice, and somehow, seeing her this shaken was more heartbreaking than her words. He was glad he'd chosen to propose in private, outside of her apartment after a rare diner date, rather than at the restaurant. Whether he'd guessed this was coming, or had wanted the moment he'd pictured to be personal and almost sacred, he couldn't later say, but he knew she'd never want to be this vulnerable in front of any audience.

"You just don't want to say yes," Joseph managed at last, trying to hide his hurt, though a part of him knew it was useless—he was dating a profiler, after all.

Amanda shook her head. "No, I _do_ want to—I want to be able to. But I don't know if I can—I'm too scared. Can I—" She winced as she looked away, both painfully aware of the agonizing death the moment was dying. "Can I think about it?"

"Of course," he answered, even as his throat tightened painfully. He wanted to hold onto the hope that it wasn't a rejection, but he also couldn't deny that he was feeling nothing short of absolutely crushed. Still, he'd always known that vulnerability and intimacy were going to be hard for them, given her background. If she needed time, he was willing to wait. He just wish she'd believe him when he told her she was someone worth waiting for.

Joseph wanted to hold Amanda, to try to shelter her as best he could when the tears he already saw were coming would hit her, but she stepped back, arms held tight against her chest, and he didn't need to be a profiler to read that body language. He forced a weak smile and a weaker, "Good night," then turned away before it could get any harder for either of them. He began to walk out of her apartment building, wishing (not for the first time) that he could find the people who'd hurt Amanda all those years ago and somehow force them to undo the damage they'd done.

 _But that's not something they or anyone else can do for her...not even me._

* * *

 **So, yeah. Definitely not a happy chapter ending there, but my comfort for all of us (yes, I include myself—this was a hard chapter to write) is that this is not the end of their story, nor the story as a whole. A lot can happen in ten chapters, after all.  
** **As always, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	34. Chapter 33

**Hello everybody; ModernDayBard here! So, after all the dramatic tension of the last scene, what is there to do but go on another case? Poor Amanda and Joseph are going to have to stew on this a little bit longer than they thought!  
** **Because I am required to say it: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.**

* * *

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Amanda had hoped to go to work, fill out paperwork, then once more flee to Penelope's retreat during her lunch break and seek advice concerning the previous night's bombshell. It wasn't a perfect plan; after all, Garcia didn't really know all the factors at play, past and present, and was likely to grow so excited at the mention of a proposal that it would be hard to get a word in edgewise.

Naturally, thanks to the 'luck' of the BAU, Garcia's temperament and ignorance became a non-issue.

* * *

 _It's kind of amazing how Garcia can give these briefings without ever looking at the pictures on the screen,_ Amanda mused. In this case, she couldn't blame the other woman—those images were not for the faint of heart.

"We've got a nasty one in Renderville, Oregon—and when I say nasty, that's practically an understatement. Only two bodies have turned up so far, but due to the bizarre and gory nature of the deaths, we were called in as soon as the second was found."

"Were their throats cut?" Emily asked, squinting at the wounds visible in the first picture. She then scanned to the next one, which answered her question. "Oh."

"Oh, indeed," Garcia answered, fighting to keep from closing her eyes and still refusing to face the screen. "The throats were not cut in a traditional sense, although cause of death was trauma to the windpipe and blood loss. Both victims were apparently blitzed from behind, then their wrists were bound behind them to a tree with some kind of wire that cut in pretty deeply. A noose of the same wire was placed around their neck and secured to a branch above their heads."

Spence frowned, puzzled. "But any kind of wire won't make a very good noose for hanging, barbed or not."

"It appears that hanging was not the main intent—the victims were left tied there for hours, and eventually their own weight pulled on the wire around their neck enough to cut in and..." Garcia trialed off, unwilling to finish. She didn't have to—they had the pictures right in front of them. "Both were left overnight, according to preliminary investigation."

"Isolated area, then?" Morgan asked, glancing up from his tablet.

Rossi looked over at the younger man, having read ahead. "A forest on the outskirts of town, so there would have been some privacy, but close enough to various hiking trials that the bodies were sure to be found, so he's not exactly hiding. Garcia, have the victims been identified? Are there any immediate red flags?"

"Yes and no. First one was Abigail Herman, 27—a local writer who was getting married in two weeks. The second victim, found last night, was Carl Westmont, 57—he ran a local real estate agency, but was set to retire soon and hand off the reigns. No obvious connections or unusual activity from either, but I will keep digging."

Hotch stood then, signaling the end of the briefing. "The cooldown period was less than two days, and there's good reason to believe the killings won't slow anytime soon, so we don't have much time. Wheels up in thirty."

Amanda followed her teammates out, jogging towards where she stowed her go-bag. _So much for having a quiet day to think over why I couldn't say yes last night. I don't want to make him wait, but..._

"Ninja, you coming?"

Derek's shout rattled her from her thoughts, and the youngest agent grabbed her bag and jogged after friend. "Right behind you, Morgan!"

 _I'm sorry Joseph._

* * *

The trip to the ME's didn't turn up any new information—there were no signs of restraints, meaning the victims were blitzed close to the crime scene and taken directly there. Though it took between 4 or 5 hours for death to occur, due to the isolated location and the fact that almost no one hiked the trails until later in the morning, they were almost doomed from the moment they were bound to the tree.

Throughout the interview and the trip to and from the ME's office, Spence found himself almost subconsciously profiling Amanda, who had been assigned with him once again. He fought against the urge to dig or pry to deep, but he could tell that something was bothering her. He held his tongue for a while, finally asking on the drive back to the station, "Is something about the case bothering you? Do you have an idea, maybe?"

"What? Uh, no. not yet." Amanda glanced away, clearly feeling guilty.

 _That means whatever she's thinking about, whatever is bothering her, isn't related to the case at all._ Spence tried to stop his thoughts there—after all, they had a rule about not profiling teammates for a reason. Still, they did sometimes overlook that in an effort to help friends out. As he opened his mouth to ask, though, Amanda cut him off with a glare that wasn't angry, just a clear warning not to pry. He nodded his understanding once, then glanced away, trying to refocus on the case.

There were lives on the line, after all.

* * *

Morgan and Emily had talked to Abigail's fiancée, and learned that she was in no ways a creature of habit—she loved exploring, trying new things, and rarely took the same walking path twice. Carl, on the other hand, always lived everyday on the exact same schedule, as his daughter had told Hotch and Rossi. Abigail hadn't cared much about money, if she had enough to live by, and looked for cheap or free ways to spend her free time, but Carl was a workaholic obsessed with financial security. There didn't seem to be any overlap between the victims, and Garcia hadn't turned up been able to turn up anything in the background checks, either.

"So how or why did he pick these two?" Rossi asked, spreading his hands. "Were they victims of opportunity? It could have been that Abigail could have been walking in the same general area that Carl normally did and caught the unsub's eye."

Spence frowned as he started at the map of the town. "Unlikely—even someone as impulsive as Abigail wouldn't go that far out of her way without a good reason."

"Maybe she saw there was an event or something going on in that part of town?" Amanda suggested, but even she wasn't convinced, and it was clear in her tone.

Before Reid could contradict her, they were interrupted by the sheriff entering the conference room in a rush. "Agent Hotchner? One of our patrols in the forest found a third victim."

The team was on their feet in an instant, almost as one glancing at the clock to see that it was almost five in the evening—a bit early for the Unsub, but not a complete break in pattern. Then came the unexpected, fateful words:

"He was taken to the ER—he's still alive."

* * *

 **So, yeah. Probably my most brutal method of killing yet, if not my goriest case, and this isn't the climax. Not that the climax isn't coming up quickly—it most certainly is (if you couldn't guess by the fact that the proposal is a looming issue).  
** **As always, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	35. Chapter 34

**Hello everybody; ModernDayBard here! This is another two-chapter week, so we have the conclusion of this case and the final break before the climax. I hope you enjoy!  
** **Because I am required to say it: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.**

* * *

It turned out the survivor had been found less than an hour after the initial attack, so neither the wounds on his wrist nor the wounds on his neck were very deep yet, and he regained consciousness quickly. Morgan and Amanda had been sent to see if they could interview him while Spence worked geographical profile and the others went to the new crime scene.

The doctor stopped the two agents just shy of the young man's room. "His name is Donald Kristaan, Jr. He's nineteen years old, and his father's on the way. His injuries aren't too worrisome, but he's clearly been traumatized. Try not to upset him too much more."

The young man glanced up as the two made their way into the room, and Derek and Amanda pulled out their badges at the same time. "Hey, I'm SA Derek Morgan, this is SSA Amanda Johnson, and we're from the FBI. Can we ask you some questions about what happened this evening?"

Donald didn't answer at first, but both profilers could tell the teen was gathering himself, trying to stay strong as he recounted events. "I was coming back from my girlfriend's house when someone hit me from behind. When I woke up, he was tying me to the tree and everything hurt. I-I couldn't see his face, 'cause he had a ski mask on, but he kept l-laughing to himself as he pulled the wire tighter. When he saw I was awake, he kept pulling and pulling until I screamed, then he hit me." The young man had to take a breath, there and his hands were visibly shaking.

"Take a moment, if you need it," Amanda offered, frankly amazed he was this lucid.

"No!" Donald tried to sit up on the exclamation, and winced as if talking too loud aggravated his throat. He lay back down and continued in the same quiet rasp he'd used before. "N-no. I want to get this over with before Dad gets here—I don't want him to hear this." The teen took another deep breath, then continued, "After he hit me, he started whispering that...that if I really trusted my dad, I should scream for him to help me. H-he dared me to do it, said Dad wouldn't hear, or wouldn't come if he did. H-he was still l-laughing the whole time, and kept pulling the wire on my hands tighter until I did what he said. He k-kept doing it, kept m-making me scream, then we heard the sirens and he ran off into the forest. That's when the cops found me."

Morgan frowned thoughtfully. "Are you particularly close to your dad? Any reason he'd single your father out for you to call for help?"

Donald blinked, his train of thought visibly changing tracks. "Uh, yeah. It's been just him and me for years now, and he's always been there for me. I-I got into a lot of trouble when I started high school, but he set me straight. He's even training me to take over the family business...That's why I don't want him to hear this," Donald finished in almost a whisper. "He'd blame himself for not being there."

Amanda mentally reviewed what they already knew of the other two victims, and the clear hints of sadism Donald's story had revealed, a very odd picture indeed forming form the scattered pieces. _Then again, is it ever anything_ _but_ _odd for us?_

* * *

"So the killer actually watches his victims struggle? Increases the torturous nature of the death?" Rossi mused as the two returning agents made their report. "Definitely a sadist then, but how is he choosing his victims?"

Amanda glanced around, then laid out the theory she and Morgan had worked out in the SUV on the way there: "Abigail was flighty in everything but her relationship with her fiancée, Carl pushed aside even his own family in pursuit of money, and Donald and his father had an especially close relationship—I think he picked people he could torture emotionally as well as physically."

"Go on," Hotch said, clearly listening.

"Well, we know he made Donald call out for his father to save him, even though there was the risk a passerby could've heard them. That means the scream—and the target of it—are an important part of the ritual to him. What if he's making them call out to the thing or person they seem to trust in most, as a way of showing them that person or thing can't be trusted?" It sounded a little silly, now that she'd said it aloud, but the others seemed to be giving it careful thought.

Emily was the first to speak. "I think that may be a part of it—and it may mean our Unsub is dealing with feeling betrayed or abandoned himself and wants others to feel his same pain."

"Definitely an angle worth looking into," Hotch agreed, nodding at his youngest agent. "Good job."

* * *

"Do you guys know how hard it is to find someone when all you have to go on is 'setting off creepy sadism flags and suffered a major disappointment or betrayal'?"

 _I'm pretty sure that's not how we phrased it,_ Amanda thought, but didn't say—Garcia was not in a mood to be countered.

Morgan frowned at the laptop screen. "Were you able to find any possible suspects?"

"Yes, but only because I am me—the average person could not have even found one of these three names." Morgan smiled at the irritated huff in their technical analyst's voice.

"Well, Baby Girl, you're anything but average. That's why we love you."

"You're just saying that because I narrowed your suspect pool to three—no, wait, to two—Turns out one of them had been in jail for the last two years. I've sent names and addresses to your tablets."

Morgan smiled as he saw Hotch's nod. "You're the best, Mama."

* * *

Spence, Amanda, and Rossi were given one of the two men to check out: Xander Wayfair, 36, who had lost his business and all his funds tied up with it when his partner backed out and the debt piled up.

Before the three agents made it out of the station, Amanda noticed a young man sitting to one side, staring at a picture in his hands. She couldn't see what the picture was, but based on the blank what-on-earth-am-I-supposed-to-do-now expression on his face, she had a pretty good guess.

"Abigail Herman's fiancée," Rossi whispered as he steered the younger two outside, confirming Amanda's assumption.

The young woman glanced back one last time, unable to deny feeling an odd blend of deep sympathy and momentary jealousy—yes, he'd lost his fiancée, but at least she'd been able to, _eager_ to spend the rest of her life with him.

 _The least I can do is find the creep who took that chance away from them._

* * *

"Xander Wayfair? FBI," Rossi called as they knocked on the door. The only answer was a crashing sound out back, and at a nod from Rossi, the two younger agents went around one side as Rossi went the other.

As the three made it to the back, they saw the door that'd been knocked halfway off its hinges in Xander's dash outside, and the running figure of Xander about a dozen yards away. Trusting the others to have her back, and knowing she was probably the fastest one there, Amanda took off after the fleeing suspect.

Xander abruptly halted and whirled to face her, knife in hand, but he'd misjudged how close she was, and she had enough time to react, ducking under his thrust and sweeping his legs out from under him. He hit the ground hard, and she grabbed the hilt of the knife, wrenching it from his grip just as the other two joined her and started cuffing him.

Amanda felt Spence's assessing gaze and held up a hand. "I'm alright; he didn't even touch me," she said quietly.

Reid nodded, accepting easily the fact that she'd come out of the confrontation with no physical injuries, but when he remembered what he'd observed earlier, he doubted Amanda was truly 'alright'.

* * *

 **So, yeah. A bit of an odd case, I know, in terms of unsub goal/motivation; but I figured only a sadist would use that painful a method. Anyway, the next chapter will be going up momentarily, then the climax commences next week!  
** **As always, if you saw something you like, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	36. Chapter 35

**Hello everybody; ModernDayBard here with the bonus chapter this week. This one won't be as long, but it is our final one before the climax begins (although it takes up quite a few chapters, so the ending is still a few weeks out). Hopefully you enjoy our last little break.  
** **Because I am required to say it: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.**

* * *

"Wait—he _proposed_?" Garcia all but shrieked when Amanda told her what had happened three days before.

Amanda winced. "Say it a little louder—I don't think they heard you in HR."

The two were in Garcia's little office again, Penelope eating takeout and Amanda the leftovers she'd brought in for lunch. The unnaturally short reply made the blonde take a closer look at her friend, noticing the dark circles under her green eyes the makeup couldn't quite hide.

"Oh, my sweet girl, have you been sleeping?" Amanda glanced away, answer enough. "So you didn't say yes or no, but you wanted to say yes," Garcia finally repeated, trying to be sure she understood.

"That's about the long and short of it, and I feel like a terrible person. Joseph's been one of the best things to happen to me in the last five years, and I can't imagine spending the rest of my life with anybody else, and I guess a part of me had always assumed we'd get married someday..."

Garcia raised an eyebrow and voiced the unspoken: "But?"

"But I'm afraid. Of being married, of taking our openness and vulnerability with each other a step farther...there are things he knows about we that no one else does, but there are things I've not gone into details with to protect him. He knows the basics but...But if we're married, I couldn't keep them from him, but knowing it would hurt him or upset him," Amanda admitted.

Garcia fiddled with one of the fuzzy pens on her desktop as she fished for some advice—but this was well out of her range of expertise. "I'm not much of one to talk, but I'd think that even after you're married, you gradually open up and work through things, rather than blurting it out all at once. And if he knows the basics, surely he'd understand why you'd take your time..."

"Maybe," Amanda granted, but from the look on her face, she was unconvinced.

* * *

 **So, yeah. This ended up being even shorter than I'd thought—originally there was another scene I'd planned, but I realized it didn't quite fit the characters like I thought it would, and it wouldn't add anything new to the story, so it would've been dead weight. Honestly, even this scene treads the line, but I wanted to show that Amanda isn't purposefully leaving Joseph hanging, she's wrestling with her own inner demons.  
** **Anyway, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improve on next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	37. Chapter 36

**Hello everybody; ModernDayBard here with the start of the climax. This is the chapter where it finally happens—we learn Amanda's backstory, and clear up all those little mysteries that went with it. Hopefully, you enjoy!  
** **Because I am required to say it: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.**

* * *

Her lunchtime conference with Garcia may not have completely solved her inner dilemma, but it had convinced Amanda of at least one thing: Joseph deserved an honest answer about _why_ she was stuck in this no-man's land. Around three that afternoon, she pulled out her phone, carefully typing out a message:

 _I'm sorry about the disappearing act these last few days—had a case. I don't know if this is a problem I can wrestle with on my own, so can we meet tonight to talk about it? I'll cook._

She was re-reading it prior to hitting 'send' for the third time when Hotch appeared at the top of the railing. "We just got word about a case. Conference room—now."

Amanda fumbled for the 'save as draft' command before stowing her phone away, so she was a few steps behind the others by the time she finally made it to the conference room. Her eyes went instinctively to the screen as she entered the room, where pictures of no less than four victims were already displayed.

...But they weren't just _any_ four victims, and Amanda froze as she recognized them. Her whole body was tense—she was probably shaking—and she could hear the others saying her name, noticing her reaction, but she couldn't look away from the screen, couldn't answer them. She could feel what was coming, and she didn't want to break down in front of her team, so she forced herself to move—turning on her heel and walking back out the door, breaking into a half-run once she was out in the hallway.

Spence stared at his partner's retreating figure in some surprise—she'd gone pale and started shaking without any explanation, hadn't responded to their questions, then ran away. What was going on? Acting more-or-less on instinct at that moment, he went after her, not noticing that Rossi followed him after gesturing for the others to stay put.

* * *

She hadn't gone far, at least. By the time the two men had caught up with her, she was sitting on the floor, back to the wall, just around the corner. She apparently hadn't been able to get much further before whatever memory she was trying to fight off had overtaken her. Reid hesitated, suddenly uncertain. He hadn't seen her this rattled since...

 _...Since Indiana._

That one thought made him remember the scars he'd seen and tried to force himself to forget once it was clear that Amanda had no intention of ever talking about them. Based on her reaction at that moment, all he could guess was that something about those people had reminded her about how she got those scars. His first instinct was to guess and say same unsub, but her scars were far too old, and the pictures had all been of the victims beforehand, not crime scene or ME photos.

Rossi brushed past the younger man, crouching in front of the seated girl. "It was him—wasn't it? You've got a better memory for faces than me; I had to see the name before I knew it was him." it was a poor attempt at a joke, to be sure, but at least it got Amanda to raise her head. "Are you going to be able to help us on this one?"

Spencer shifted awkwardly, wondering how Rossi knew so much about Amanda. There was one obvious answer, given their ages and the timeline, but the young doctor was hoping for his partner's sake that wasn't the case. Unfortunately, that was beginning to look like the most likely possibility.

"No."

Both men were surprised—both at the fact that Amanda had answered Rossi's question, and at what her answer was. After a deep breath, she elaborated: "I can't. They won't let me investigate; I'm a suspect."

* * *

Amanda didn't—couldn't—explain anymore until the three made their way back to the conference room and the rest of their team; she only had the resolve to get through this once. Rather than take in the concerned faces of Hotch, Emily, and Morgan, Amanda focused on Garcia, and her worried expression was enough to deal with.

"I know it doesn't look like there's a connection between the victims, but I know that there is, and what it is," she said at last. "In fact, in most ways of phrasing it, I _am_ the connection." Working up her courage, she focused on the screen again, and started by pointing at the first woman. "She's Felicia Warren, and she's the social worker that declared my mother an unfit guardian. The other woman, Cassandra Gerald, was the social worker in charge of my brothers and me when we entered the system, the one that cleared our first three foster homes. Mr. Yeates was my fourth grade teacher, and that man..." she faltered, barely able to look up at the mug shot glaring down at her. "Mr. Veere. He—He..."

"He and his wife were the third foster home you and your brothers were sent to," Rossi finished for her, and Amanda nodded.

She was shaking again, but trying to get it under control. Almost nineteen years, and it was still terrifying to face Veere's pock-marked face. "Is he dead?" she asked in a small voice.

"He died in prison two years ago, but the autopsy noticed that someone had carved the fraction 1/5 into his back sometime before he died. He'd been catatonic for a month, and there were several people who would've had access to instruments that helped care for him in the prison's medical ward, so they never figured out who carved them." Garcia reported, still regarding the youngest agent with protective concern. "They didn't assume it mattered, until three months ago, when the bodies started turning up—each was either strangled or shot and, in order, had the following fractions carved on their back: Felicia Warren, 2/5; Cassandra Gerald, 3/5, Ethan Yeates, 4/5. They assumed they were all connected, since the numbers kept going up, and in most cases, those details had not been made public. It took them so long to connect the dots however, since the kills were spaced out geographically and on the time line..."

For once, Spence wasn't listening much to Garcia's information, and Amanda could feel his gaze boring into her. "What did you mean you were a suspect?"

"I didn't do it," she rushed to clarify, "but anyone looking at the whole story would say you'll be forced to consider me a suspect, which makes me ineligible to help with the investigation." She glanced at Hotch and Rossi, but knew without even looking that the time had come. This wasn't how she'd wanted it to become common knowledge—she hadn't ever wanted it to get out, if she was honest—but there was no avoiding the truth now.

"The Veere's were verbally and physically abusive from the start. It was worse for the boys, especially Jason and Brandon, since Mr. Veere beat them a lot. For Jamie and me, it was mostly Mrs. Veere who punished us, making us skip meals, locking us in the basement overnight, even in the winter when it was freezing down there and we didn't have coats or blankets—things like that. Jamie never was the healthiest kid, a few months of that and he got real sick. At that point, I was the only one the Veere's were letting go to school, they made some kind of excuse for the older two, so I tried to ask my teacher for help. He denied it later, said he didn't know, but that day he said he'd known the Veere's for years, and that I should stop exaggerating, since they only punished kids when they deserved it. Three days later, we woke up, and Jamie didn't. That's when the whole story came out. The Veere's got locked away, and the system separated Jason, Brandon and I."

She'd told the whole story without looking up, never raising her gaze form the tabletop, but even that didn't stop the pain of the tears trying to squeeze their way out. That hell hole of a farmhouse refused to leave her alone, even after nearly two decades. "Excuse me," she muttered, slipping away again—this time bound for the bathroom.

"The details were worse," Rossi added after she left, trying to warn the team way from prying. "That was one of the few cases the early BAU looked into that wasn't one of our own investigations. We interviewed the Veere's and the children, trying to form a picture of events and a profile of the couple, since the abuse was on a horrific, nearly sadistic level. We were using the Veere's as the basis of a profile—that's how bad they were."

Silence fell over the conference room then, as each tried to process what that meant their teammate and her brothers had been put through at such a young age—how strong did they have to be to emerge a decent human being after going through something so terrible? The, there was the more sobering thought...Amanda hadn't had the opportunity, but only she or her brothers knew of all four victims' involvement in their case.

...What if one of them _hadn't_ emerged a decent human being?

* * *

 **So, yeah. I kept it light on details, since I can't imagine Amanda would spill everything in this kind of situation, but there is the backstory that has been hinted at from the start. Hopefully, this makes her flashbacks in Chapter 24 make sense (one was Jamie calling from the cellar, the other was overhearing her brothers as she regained consciousness after her first beating), as well as explains how Rossi seems to know her—he interviewed her when she was a kid. And, yes, this is also the root of why she reacted to the proposal the way she did—she's mostly healed from the trauma, but the thought of being so intimate and vulnerable with someone is still hard for her, since there are still things that haunt her about her time with the Veere's.  
** **Anyway—yes, somehow this case is tied in with her backstory, and top suspects 1-3 are Amanda and her brothers. Who could it be? Stay tuned to find out!  
** **As always, if you saw something you like, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	38. Chapter 37

**Hello everybody; ModernDayBard here. Now, unlike my normal approach to cases (2 chapters), or my more rushed, 1-chapter attempts, this case will unfold over several chapters, so no luck if you were hoping for a quick resolution!  
** **Because I am required to say it: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.**

* * *

There was a silent, dreadful pall over the conference room after Amanda's story and Rossi's addition.

Spence had been the one who knew more of the truth than the others, but even he hadn't imagined something that horrific—if he was honest, he had thought she'd been abducted and tortured as a child, but only for a day or two, not exposed to prolonged abuse. Morgan and Emily felt like they'd intruded—this was a story that only came out in such extreme circumstances, or after years of developing trust. Garcia was horrified at the thought of anyone treating any child in such a way, much less one of her dear friends. Hotch and Rossi exchanged glances; as Amanda's supervising officers, they'd both had access to the version of the story in her official file, and Rossi, of course, remembered the frightened, distrustful girl those few months had turned her into.

The one thing that none of them thought was that the woman they'd worked alongside was any kind of serial killer, especially not a revenge-seeking mission-oriented killer.

And yet, however temporarily, they'd have to consider the possibility that she was one.

* * *

Morgan, Prentiss, and Reid glanced up as Rossi led Amanda back into the bullpen area after her interview with him and Hotch. Well, interview wasn't exactly the right word, but it wasn't an interrogation, since a simple search on Garcia's part confirmed she had an alibi for all of the kills—most of them team-related. Hotch had quickly ended the charade, then gone off to make some calls, whatever that meant.

Amanda wasn't sure what they'd do next, how the investigation would proceed. In any other case, she'd know, or have a pretty decent guess, but her brain was still fuzzy and foggy from recalling and retelling the story of her time with the Veere's.

When she saw her teammates waiting for her, she couldn't meet their eyes. "I-I'm sorry," she started. "Should have told you—"

"No, Ninja," Morgan cut her off gently. "It wasn't our time or place to know. If it weren't for this damn case, it still wouldn't be."

No one seemed to know what else to say—what was the right response after you learned such a story nineteen years after the fact? The moment ended as Hotch re-entered the area, shoulders back and jaw clenched. Every profiler present cold read that body language—he had a plan, but they weren't going to like it.

"Here's what we have to do..."

* * *

 **So, yeah. I'm cruel enough to have that be the cliffhanger. I was going to go more into them processing the story originally, but honestly, it just wasn't coming out like that. (Although that may have more to do with writing this chapter late at night than any kind of organic story development.)  
** **As always, if you saw something you like, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**

* * *

 **ANNOUNCEMENT: I will be taking next week off of posting, since next weekend is my college graduation. I will return, hopefully in the next week, to finish up these two stories and make an announcement about my plan going forward. Thanks for your patience, everybody!**


	39. Chapter 38

**Sorry about missing yesterday, I was unexpectedly out of town. But I'm back, so here's the chapter!**

* * *

 **Hello everybody; ModernDayBard here. I don't have too much to say this time, except that I hope you enjoy watching the case and climax continue to unfold.  
** **Because I am required to say it: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.**

* * *

Hotch's assessment—that no one would be happy with the plan of action that had been decided on—was accurate. Thinking about it rationally, it made sense: in light of Amanda's story, the 'fractions' could be seen as a countdown of sorts, meaning there was one potential victim left, which could only be Mrs. Veere herself, so taking the woman into protective custody was the best course of action, and would force the killer's hand or buy them time to figure out who was the Unsub.

And the two most likely suspects left, now that Amanda's alibi checked out, were Jason and Brandon, so one could easily understand why they were to be brought in and questioned. Of course, since they lived in different states, this made the logistics of the endeavor difficult. However, it turned out Mrs. Veere had also settled in Tennessee after being released from prison, in an area not too far from where Brandon lived, so most of the team headed there, Rossi going to bring Mrs. Veere into protective custody, and Prentiss and Morgan bringing in Brandon. Meanwhile, Hotch and Spence had gone to Ohio to talk to Jason.

To Amanda's surprise, she'd been allowed to travel with the team to Tennessee, despite not officially being a part of the investigation. She wouldn't be permitted to talk to her brother until after his alibi was confirmed, but she was confident in his innocence, and content to wait. Before he even made it to the station, however, Rossi arrived back, and Amanda found herself bolting from the room before the older woman could spot or recognize her.

 _This is going to be awful._

* * *

Spence watched as Hotch sat across from Amanda's oldest brother, Jason. The young pastor seemed a little uneasy, but that could have just been the situation. After all, few people, if any, would be completely at ease being interrogated by the FBI, and those few people would be very suspicious indeed. But Jason wasn't setting off any alarms in Reid's head, and once he'd been assured that he hadn't been brought in because either of his siblings were hurt or in danger, Jason had been very cooperative.

Spence's phone buzzed with a text from Garcia, and he checked in subtly—Jason's alibi was solid for all three kills and the prison mutilation. He gave Hotch a small nod, and the older man paused in his latest series of questions, which had been aimed at getting a preliminary sense of the young pastor's health and frame of mind. The older agent returned the nod—this wasn't their man.

 _Does this mean it was Brandon? Amanda's convinced it isn't either of them, but they_ _are_ _her brothers. Besides, if it isn't them, who could it be?_

* * *

"Look, you guys work with Amanda, right? Just tell me: is this about her? Is she okay?"

"She's fine," Prentiss answered as she took a seat opposite Brandon, who was clearly agitated. "This is actually about the Veere's."

Brandon stiffened at the name—a fact that did not go unnoticed by the brunette across from him. His whole posture became more closed off, but that could also have been a reaction to the memory of the pain and trauma the couple had inflicted on him and his siblings.

"I don't want anything to do with them," he said at last. "They got sent to prison, that's where they should stay. If someone's looking into paroling them, tell them not to. That bitch and that bastard are right where they deserve to be."

Emily made a show of glancing back at the file in front of her, before responding. "He's dead and she was released two years ago on good behaviour." She glanced back up and saw the look of surprise and something approaching incomprehension on the carpenter's face.

"They—she—he," he stammered, shaking his head. "Of course—why keep her locked up now that she's a harmless old lady?" he asked with a bitter, sarcastic laugh. "She only abused and criminally neglected four children placed in her care—and caused the death of one of them. No big deal." He met Emily's eyes again, and she could see he was genuinely rattled by the information that the nightmare of his childhood was loose again. "You obviously know about what happened there—do you know how Jamie died? It wasn't just that he was sick—he was so malnourished from all the times she'd refused him food. We'd try to sneak some to each other, but it was never enough. And hypothermia—it was always cold there...He was only eight," he finished weakly, in a broken voice. "And we couldn't save him."

Emily didn't speak for a while, taking in the figure before her. From what she could tell, while he was the most willing to talk about what happened in those months, like his brother and sister he'd been doing his best to move on and escape its effects. He'd been rattled by being forced to face it again but she didn't think he'd hunt down those he deemed responsible, if only because he'd rather forget, if he could. She was almost certain his alibi would check out as well.

 _But who does that leave, then?_

* * *

Only his many years of training and experience kept Rossi from glaring at the woman across from him—he hadn't liked Mrs. Gertrude Veere when they first met, and his impression had not improved in nineteen years. In fact, the older agent couldn't deny wishing this interview was taking place in a holding cell or interrogation room, rather than a comfortable sitting area in the back of the police station.

She didn't look cruel or evil—not that people like her commonly did, and what did 'looking evil' really mean?—but rather like any other elderly lady in that community. A person who didn't know her story might have even called Gertrude Veere sweet. She perched on the couch in her floral-print dress, with her handbag by her feet. She didn't seem to recognize the man sitting opposite her in the armchair, but then, Gideon had been the one to draw the short straw and conduct the Veere's interviews, while Rossi had been the one to talk to the three surviving Johnson siblings.

"Thank you for agreeing to come with us," Rossi managed at last, his voice somehow level and civil, "I know this must've been a shock."

"Oh, that's fine, dearie—I'm not one to argue when the FBI says they need to protect me, though I don't know why anyone would want to hurt me," the grey-haired woman assured him.

Rossi took a moment to choose his next words. "We have good reason to believe that someone is targeting people connected to an incident nineteen years ago—the death of Jamie Johnson." He watched for her reaction at the name, and was not disappointed: she sat up straighter, clasped her hands, and her expression turned cold.

"I've been trying to leave the past behind, move on in the little time I have left...I feel sorry for that poor boy, but the whole mess was a big misunderstanding." She paused for a bit, then her expression darkened. "It's probably one of the two older hooligans—they were trouble born, those two. Nothing I did got through to them. I was just trying to put them back on the right track."

"Discipline," Rossi suggested, stomach churning at the thought of how benign a term could be misused by people like her. No, not misused—misunderstood. If he remembered the original case file correctly, she'd always insisted she was only trying to discipline the four children; it'd been determined that her husband was the true sadist in the household.

Gertrude nodded emphatically, beginning to smile as perceived support. "Exactly! Heaven knows those children hadn't had much before they came to me. They're mother was a drug addict, you know. That's why they were taken away, and I could tell just by looking at them they'd lived with her for too long and were already picking up her wicked ways. I had to act quickly if I was going to save them from themselves. The younger two had more of a chance, but I wasn't about to give up on any of them."

"So Jamie's death was accidental?" Rossi asked, though he had seen the ME's report nineteen years ago. _Yes, you 'accidentally' starved him, beat him, and repeatedly locked him in a freezing basement with no coat, shoes, or blanket in the winter._

Gertrude glanced away, uncomfortable now. "I-I didn't know he was sick. His vice was lying, see. He'd fake being sick, or tell me the others were sick, to try and get treats or out of chores."

So, her view of events hadn't changed in nineteen years. Unsurprising, since most people would tell themselves anything to appease their own conscience, and convince the world of their innocence by first convincing themselves. "Is there anyone else connected to the incident that may have a grudge against you or your husband?"

"No, no," Gertrude insisted, shaking her head. "I guarantee you: it was one of those two. They were bad to the bone, and I was too late to save them."

 _No, the only one it was too late to save was Jamie...and maybe you._

* * *

While Rossi was finishing up his interview, Emily left the room where Brandon was being held and meandered over to where Morgan was waiting, coffee in hand and clearly uncomfortable. "Something wrong?" the brunette asked her partner as she came up beside him.

Derek didn't meet her gaze, and instead kept glancing between the room he had left, the closed door to the sitting area where Rossi and Mrs. Veere were, then over to where Amanda was sitting, still and blank-faced, for once.

"We get cases like this sometimes," Morgan said by way of a prelude before blurting out the one thing bothering him: "But it always feels like, when we do, we're protecting the wrong person."

On the plane, those who hadn't already had read the original case file and seen what Amanda hadn't said. Even ignoring the fact that it felt like intruding into their friend's personal life, it was anything but a comfortable read, and Prentiss couldn't help agreeing with Morgan's assessment.

* * *

 **So, yeah. I think when I was planning it, I pictured this happening in Quantico where the BAU is based, then I realized when I came to write this chapter that I had the brothers in two different states, and I needed to set the rest of the case in one of those, so I picked Brandon because...well, you'll see next time!  
** **As always, if you saw something you liked, or something you think you can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	40. Chapter 39

**Hello everybody; ModernDayBard here. We're almost at the end—one more chapter and a epilogue after this, but the mystery will be solved this time, I promise!  
** **Because I am required to say it: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.  
**

* * *

 **Language warning for this chapter. Probably the strongest I've written in a fanfic, but given the character/situation, it makes sense...I hope.**

* * *

Hotch and Reid had met up with the rest of the team at the police station, but the inescapable fact that they didn't have answers—or a clear suspect—weighed over the whole group. Spence glanced over to where Amanda and a newly released Brandon had drifted away from the BAU to talk quietly. Both siblings were clearly rattled by the resurrection of their past ghosts, like their older brother, but they seemed to be reconstructing their guard as much as possible.

He turned his attention away from them, knowing he'd do his friend more good if he found the person who'd undertaken the revenge mission than if he kept profiling her and her brother.

Morgan was just summarizing the lack of information they had: "...Our three most likely candidates all have solid alibies, and they were the only ones that knew of the teacher's involvement in the case. Anyone just reading the file wouldn't have known that Amanda tried to ask him for help."

"I think we're going about this the wrong way," Rossi said at last. "The profile is our best weapon, and we haven't really tried to form one for this case. We need to start there—start over."

Prentiss nodded slowly, and was the first to speak: "It's pretty clear we have a mission-oriented killer, and most likely someone who sees themselves as dealing out justice for a crime they see as unpunished."

"But not a crime committed to them," Rossi jumped in, "since the Johnson siblings are all cleared. This is more an 'angel of justice' situation, striking out on someone else's behalf..."

* * *

As the profile was being constructed, Amanda and Brandon were talking quietly about the plans for his and Marianne's wedding in an effort to ignore why they were both there. Amanda heard a door open behind them, and a woman's voice asking where the bathroom was, and she tried to shift so she was between her brother and the woman he still didn't know was in the station with them. She was too slow, however...

"You!" an older woman's voice shrieked as Mrs. Veere's watery blue eyes landed on the young carpenter, who had stiffened in utter shock at the sight of her.

Brandon's eyes flicked to his sister's, and she could see the fear that he tried to hide—some things couldn't just be left behind. "What is she doing here?" he asked hoarsely. "Mandy, what is _she_ doing here?"

"Agent Rossi, he's right there—one of the two I was telling you about," Mrs. Veere kept shouting, but Amanda didn't turn around, trusting her team to quiet the woman she still couldn't face. She had to take care of her brother.

She reached out, placing a hand on each of her brother's arms, gripping a little harder than normal in an attempt to get his attention. "Just ignore her, Brandon. Please. We can't give her any more power. Rossi will make her go back in that room, and she'll stay there. You can go back to Marianne and pretend none of this ever happened."

Even as she said it, she knew that he may calm down, but like her, he'd be unable to act as thought this day had never happened, just like they couldn't ignore the effects of those months nineteen years ago.

* * *

Eventually, Rossi was able to force Gertrude Veere back into the room, though heaven only knew what he'd had to tell her about Brandon to get her to go—Amanda certainly didn't. Brandon calmed down, too, but hadn't yet made his way out of the station when a commotion by the front caught the attention of the siblings and the rest of the BAU team.

"You damn cops can't do anything right! Why have you got my kids locked up here—they didn't do nothin', they're the victims. You've got a murder right under your noses, so go on and kill her already!"

The shouts were coming from a grey-haired man standing in the middle of the lobby, ignoring any and all urging him to calm down. "I know what she did—what they all did. That bastard told me most of it, the teacher told me the rest. If you won't let me finish the job, do it yourself!"

Amanda glanced at her brother, knowing her own memory of times before the foster system was fuzzy at best. "Is that...Dad?"

"I-I'm not sure," Brandon admitted, not tearing his eyes off the still-shouting man. "He's changed a lot—gotten older. But he looks a lot like Jason and Jamie, don't you think?"

Now that her brother mentioned it, he did. Knowing that she and Brandon favored their mother (according to their oldest brother) it made sense that their other two brothers took more after their father, and the man standing there did look like what Jason could be in another thirty to forty years. _If his personal hygiene went to hell,_ Amanda couldn't help adding silently.

Now Rossi and Hotch had approached the irate man and were speaking calmly to him.

"...Of course I'm their father, I'm Dan Johnson! I heard the story on the news when I was in prison. Do you know how long it took me to track down the son of a bitch that killed my son? A fuckin' long time! And he died before I could do it myself! But I got the rest of them—except the bitch herself. So either let me kill her or do it yourself!"

So this was their father then? He was trying to be protective, or at least vengeful, but was undeniably unstable, and seemed to lack both remorse and empathy, but that could've been because he was convinced he was doing the right thing.

Surrounded as he was by police officers, Dan was quickly subdued, cuffed, and led away, still protesting that he'd just been doing the job they'd been too cowardly or inept to do themselves. Amanda watched him go, still trying to figure out how she felt about this abrupt development.

She'd never known their father—didn't really remember him—and had always assumed he didn't care about them. She supposed that this was an attempt at caring, but it was too little, too late, and not at all what she'd wanted from him.

 _We didn't want your vengeance or your anger...we just needed you to be there._

* * *

 **So, yeah. Sorry if it felt like that came a bit out of nowhere—I swear, I'd planned that from the beginning, I just am really bad at foreshadowing. But anyways, that is the backstory come full circle. Where do we go from here? Stay tuned for one more week to find out!  
** **As always, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fi/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	41. Chapter 40

**Hello everybody; ModernDayBard here. This is the final week of this adventure (epilogue going up in a few moments), and I want to take this opportunity to anyone who followed/favorited/reviewed this story, or just kept checking in and reading it. You guys are amazing, and I hope I am able to provide a fitting conclusion to the story for you guys. Enjoy!  
** **Because I am required to say it: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.**

* * *

It didn't take much digging to confirm Dan Johnson's claim to be the Unsub, and Brandon soon made his way out of the station, intent on returning to his home, fiancée, and normal life. The BAU team was packing up, getting ready to leave, and talking over the events of the last forty-eight hours, when Spence noticed that Hotch wasn't there. He wouldn't have thought much of it, assuming their boss was talking things over with the local police, expect that Amanda wasn't anywhere to be seen, either.

The young doctor looked up, asking no one in particular. "Where's Amanda?"

Rossi glanced up briefly as well, sounding unconcerned, and even a little proud a he answered simply: "Doing something she's needed to do for a long time."

* * *

Under Hotch's watchful eye (and with his permission), Amanda opened the door that led to the room where an older woman in a floral-print dress was sitting stiffly on the couch. Whatever Rossi had told her when she was shouting at Brandon had obviously upset and deflated the grey-haired woman.

Gertrude Veere, the living embodiment of her nightmares, fears, and regrets, was sitting right in front of her, and the young woman hesitated a moment, wondering if she was strong enough to do this. Another part of her mind asked if she was strong enough to keep pressing on without doing this, and it was that voice that won the internal debate and drove Amanda a few steps further into the room, until she was standing behind the chair Rossi had previously occupied, meeting those watery blue eyes in a steady gaze.

"Who are you and what do you want?"

To Amanda's credit, her only reaction to Gertrude's sharp demand was to tighten her grip on the back of the chair before answering in a level voice, "I'm Amanda Johnson, and I want—no, I _need_ —you to listen to me, for once."

Gertrude straightened and stiffened, but didn't speak, and Amanda took the opening. "When I was younger, I might've asked you why you hurt us—what we were being punished for. I might've screamed at you and cursed at you for killing Jamie. Later, I might've tried to see you with pity, because you honestly believed that abusing children was helping them. Or I might've tried to debate with you, convince you that you were wrong. But now I know—none of those reactions are what I need to say, what I need you to hear."

She took a breath and came around to the front of the chair, but still, she did not sit. It wasn't because she was afraid or uncomfortable, it was because she wanted Gertrude to see and know, on a subconscious level, that Amanda was the strong one, the one in control.

"Now, I know: I don't need your apology I don't need you to admit you were wrong, I just need you to hear this: yes, you hurt me. What's more, you hurt my brothers. Yes, you changed us in ways that we will never fully be able to erase. But," Amanda's voice got a little louder, but still remained calm and insistent as she delivered her final verdict, "But you do not own us—you do not own _me_. We are no longer trapped with you on that farm. You do not define me. I am not bound to you or what you did to me. And starting today, you will not haunt me anymore."

Message delivered, Amanda turned on her heel and calmly left the room without waiting or looking back to see how her words had affected Gertrude. That moment hadn't been about Mrs. Veere, it'd been about her, and finally facing down her demons and forcibly taking the needed closure from them.

And now it was done.

* * *

Joseph Madison had just got home after a long day at work, glancing at his phone out of habit, but she still hadn't texted him. He didn't know what to do—did she need comfort or space? Should he wait for her to reach out or invite her over for dinner so they could talk things over? The only thing he knew for sure was that he didn't want to lose her, but was afraid that she no longer felt the same.

A knock on the door rattled him from these thought. He walked over and opened it, heart rate picking up speed rapidly as he saw Amanda, looking uncharacteristically nervous.

"I meant to text you yesterday," she started in a rush, her green eyes locked onto his as if she was searching for a clue, trying to profile him, "but we got a case, and it was last minute, and..." She shook her head as if physically abandoning that train of thought, and finally burst out:

"I asked for time to think about it, and I _have_ been thinking about it..."

Joseph couldn't reply, but one hand moved on its own accord, reaching out to her, and she took it both of hers, before saying the six most beautiful words he'd ever heard:

"...and yes—the answer is yes!"

* * *

 **So, yeah. What—did you guys think I was going to leave poor Joseph hanging? Anyway, Amanda now knows why she hesitated—she needed one more piece of closure before she could move on, and now she can. As I said before, epilogue going up momentarily!  
** **As always, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**


	42. Epilogue

**Hello everybody; ModernDayBard here with the final installment in 'Demons'. Thank you all so much for your support of this story! This is by far my longest project to date, and I couldn't have finished it without your support and encouragement. You guys are awesome!  
** **Because I am required to say it: I do not own Criminal Minds or any cannon characters/events; just those of my own creation.**

* * *

David Rossi's expansive back yard was had been turned into a party area for the night—the ground covered to make a dance floor, the trees covered in strings of fairy lights, and tables of drink and food scattered around the area. The people gradually filed in as they made their way from the church, talking in excited voices about the ceremony they'd just witnessed.

Rossi, who'd arrived first, smiled proudly that the plan had come together. There'd been some expected protests from the happy couple, but his insistence had won out for this part of the evening, at least. He was soon joined by most of the BAU team—Reid, Prentiss, Morgan, Hotch, JJ, and Garcia—along with their families. A few, less familiar faces came next, including an older couple that'd been introduced as Colonel and Mrs. Meyers.

The next clump consisted of most of the Madison family—sans Joseph—along with Jason Johnson, his wife Brianna, their 16-month-old boy, Joshua, Brandon Johnson, and his wife of three months, Marianne.

The last to arrive were the guests of honor, and a cheer went up as they made their way, hand-in-hand into the yard and the crowd of well-wishers. Rossi smiled proudly from where he stood, waiting for a break in the mob, and he found himself wishing all cases he had worked could have such a happy ending, even if it was almost two decades later. He raised the glass in his hands in silent toast to the new couple, Mr. and Mrs. Madison.

 _Congratulations, both of you._

* * *

 **So, yeah. I'd originally pictured the ceremony itself happening in the yard as well, like it did for JJ, then I remembered that was a surprise, and Amanda probably wouldn't have been comfortable having the ceremony itself at Rossi's place, but I** _ **could**_ **see him insisting on hosting the reception, so that's my reasoning there.  
** **Anyway, thank you all once again for coming with me on this journey, and I hope you enjoyed it! As always, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!**

* * *

 **So, I suppose this announcement has actually been a long time coming. My approach to fanfiction as always been to, when it was possible, completely finish a story before I even begin to post it, and while I post t, write the next set of stories. More than a year ago, when I began posting this story and _Watch What Happens_ , I tried to do exactly that, but both those stories died, and this past fall was far too busy to even think of starting another one. I tried a different story over winter break, but that story has stalled, and again, spring ate too much into my writing time.**  
 **That brings us to now. I find myself here, at the end of two stories, with nothing left to post but the final chapter of _In Days to Come_. After that, nothing. For a long time. See, I want to be a professional writer, and since I just graduated from college, this summer is when I'm going to be trying to get some kind of a job _and_ write enough things that I and start shopping my work around.**  
 **This means that, after I post these three chapters, I will be taking an extended hiatus from fanfiction, unless inspiration for a one-shot strikes. It may. It has in the past. I don't intend to leave forever, as I do have other fic ideas rattling around in my skull still, but it will likely be a long, long time.**  
 **Thank you so much for everyone who as followed any of my stories, and put up with some less-than-stellar writing up front. And thanks for those following this story, the response has been incredible, and so far beyond anything I could've hoped for when I came to this site.**

 **Hopefully, I'll see you around!**


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